


Riding Dirty

by OtterHell



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, Genji is an excellent host, Good wholesome fuck, Hanzo is professional and his brother ruins it, Jesse is a stripper ho, Jesse's just along for the ride, M/M, Modern AU, PWP, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Romcom meets Magic Mike, Slow-ish burn, Smut, Stripper AU, Switching, There will be threesomes, Yakuza Genji Shimada, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada, ass eating, mechanic AU, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-25 18:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 53,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12538056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterHell/pseuds/OtterHell
Summary: "Good work should not go unrewarded. Tell me, Jesse, would you like to go for a ride with me?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

There was a great deal about life in Los Angeles that Genji had come to love -- and even prefer -- over Japan. First, there were the clubs. No one knew how to party like the Americans, and their clubs where scandalous, unrepentant affairs that made some of the best Tokyo establishments look tame and prudish in comparison. Then there were the people. Americans were so much rowdier than the crowds Genji associated himself with back in Japan, so much less preoccupied with shame and decorum. Though, perhaps their looser morals were more an effect of the city than anything else; nearly everyone here in Los Angeles had their vices, and so they tended to be far less judgmental of Genji's.

 

Last, and surely not least, the food ought to be  given an honorable mention. There were few places one could get an authentic cheeseburger in Japan, especially at three in the morning.

 

Of course, all of these late nights spent partying with the Americans in their fancy clubs and casinos, eating their greasy fast food and drinking their light beers and top-shelf vodkas, meant that Genji spent more mornings than not sporting terrible hangovers and waking up in strangers' beds. His older brother disapproved -- _ strongly _ . He never failed to remind Genji what a disgrace he was making of himself, how furiously the rest of the Shimda- _ gumi _ would react to his delinquency, how he was twenty-five and still carried on like a rebellious, sex-starved teenager.

 

And he was right; Genji knew he was behaving poorly, that he was 'acting out', as it were. He knew the family would disapprove. He knew that, if Hanzo told them of Genji's antics in America, they would either demand his return home or find _ other ways _ of setting the youngest Shimada brother straight.

 

He knew this, and yet he did not care. He had been under the family's thumb for so long that he felt he should luxuriate in this brief respite. He was treating the business trip with Hanzo like a vacation, because, as far as Genji was concerned, it was. He was far from the family's influence, separated by vast miles of ocean in a place where they could not impose upon them their will. He didn't have to dress as they told him to. He didn't have to participate in their dirty business dealings. He didn't have to do and act as he was expected to. He was _free_ , if only for a time, and Genji was determined to make the most of it.

 

Today would be like all the rest, though Genji had crawled out of bed earlier than he usually preferred to, roused by the sound of phone ringing in its cradle. His bed was empty that morning, but there were clear signs that he had had a guest (or multiple  _ guests _ ) over the night before, and the slew of hickeys across his shoulders and pleasant soreness in his ass told him it had been a particularly satisfying one.

 

The call went to the answering machine, and while Genji fixed himself a tea and munched on bland toast to quell his alcohol-induced nausea, he listened to the voice message. The man speaking had a thick, southern drawl that he had trouble understanding at first. From what Genji could glean, he was saying something about picking up a vehicle from his shop.

 

Right. The  _ McLaren _ . He and Hanzo had imported one of the family’s sports cars to America when they travelled here for their ten-month business trip. It wasn’t exactly street-legal here, not after all the modifications that had been done to it, and so Hanzo had found an unscrupulous mechanic in the city to manage all necessary maintenance on the vehicle. Genji had never met the man before; Hanzo didn’t much like him using the car, and he always insisted on making his trips to the garage alone.

 

There was no Hanzo around today, though, and according to the man in the voice message, the car was ready to be picked up.

 

With a grin, Genji scarfed down the rest of his toast and hurried to get dressed.

 

*

 

The afternoon was warm and pleasantly dry; California was rarely humid, and Genji was eternally grateful for this. It did wonders for maintaining the wild spikes of his hair, which he had dyed a striking shade of green just a few days after arriving in the country. Hanzo hadn’t approved, of course, and had yet to stop harassing Genji to dye it back to its natural shade of black.

 

He had no intention to. The green suited him, thank-you-very-much.

 

There were other features of appearance Genji had changed, too, since coming to America. He dressed more far more casually here than he had in Hanamura, in designer clothing rather than the traditional garments he was expected to wear around Shimada castle. He favored low, swooping necklines which showed a faint glimpse of his toned chest and the green-and-black ink of his tattoo, and well-fitted pants that clung to his ass. Today he wore a pair of sunglasses more expensive than all of his outfit combined, perched on the bridge of his nose. It was not particularly sunny out that day, but he was still mildly hungover from the night before and they served well to keep the light from worsening his headache.

 

He had taken a cab to McCree’s garage, and tipped the driver an extra fifty dollars if he kept his radio off so that Genji could nurse his headache in merciful silence. The ride wasn’t long, five minutes at most, and when Genji slipped out of the cab he threw the man a hundred dollar bill and told him to ‘keep the change’, just because he thought he sounded rather slick saying that, and the bug-eyed responses he received never failed to amuse him.

 

His head was turned toward his phone as he headed toward the garage, thumbing deftly at the touchscreen as he answered a few texts. Most of the messages were from last night, from numbers that were not in his contact list. One was sent by a fling Genji remembered well but could not, for the life of him, put a name to. Another was from Hanzo, pointedly reminding him that he would be returning to the penthouse the following morning. Genji replied with a long string of emojis _,_ well-aware of how these sorts of responses vexed his high-strung older brother, and then tucked his phone into his pocket.

 

He entered the garage through the back door, which was kept ajar by a large cement block. It was balmy inside, even more so than it was outside that afternoon -- either the place had no air conditioning, or the owner had shut it off for the day for some inconceivable reason. Genji was glad to be wearing a thin T-shirt.

 

The room was not particularly large, only expansive enough to service perhaps three cars at a time. It smelled of gasoline and pungent cigarettes, and for a moment Genji lingered by the door, wondering if he hadn't someone stumbled into the wrong place. Hanzo was usually so discerning with the businesses he dealt with. Criminal or not, he had exceedingly high standards, and this garage was so-- well, _dirty_.

 

Genji didn't mind, personally. He just hadn't expected this. Clearly this 'McCree' guy must be good at his job and even better at keeping quiet, or else Hanzo would have surely found services elsewhere.

 

He looked around curiously, though it took no more than one quick glance to find what he was looking for. There was the car, sleek black with subtle accents of neon green around the rims, and polished to an almost mirror-like shine. It looked resplendent under the fluorescent lights of the shop, at first glance appearing as meticulously well-maintained and free of fingerprints or scratches as it had when Genji had seen it last.

 

But it was hardly the most attractive sight in the room. Genji's eyes wandered toward the center of the garage, where a decidedly less-impressive looking white Lexus was parked. Its front hood was open, but from where he was standing, Genji could see the man hunched over behind it. He was tall and shirtless, dressed only in a pair of low-hanging jeans that left all of the tantalizing expanse of his tanned, muscular back on display. The garage's hot air left a sheen of sweat on his skin, and every movement he made as he worked beneath the car's hood had his biceps flexing and his shoulders rippling.

 

Genji plucked off his sunglasses so he could get a better look. The man hadn't noticed him yet, and he was content to continue staring a while longer, to drink in the sight of those hairy, grease-stained forearms and the wide expanse of his back. His chestnut hair was held back in a short, messy ponytail, exposing the nape of his neck where a tiny bead of sweat was slowly sliding down his spine. Genji wetted his lips, sorely tempted to lick that tempting droplet away. The stranger was fit. Bulkier than Genji, for sure, built more like a tank where Genji was all lean and compact muscle.

 

Hopefully he had a face to match that gorgeous body of his.

 

With a wolfish grin, Genji at last made his presence known.

 

" _ Yo _ ," he greeted, with a little two-fingered salute as the sweaty, hairy,  _ hunk _ of a man wheeled around to look at him. Genji was not at all disappointed by what he saw. The man had a handsome face, bordered by a thick, dark beard and a square jawline. His chest was large and as hairy as the rest of him, and _ chiseled _ , too, in such a way that made it clear he must spend a respectable amount of time working out.

 

Shamelessly, Genji wondered what he would look like without the pants, if he had a big dick to match that big body of his. He licked his lips again, this time intentionally, as he caught the man's gaze and held it, bold and unblinking, with his own.

 

"Are you McCree? My brother sent me to retrieve our car. I believe you know him as 'Mr. Shimada'."

 

It was a quiet afternoon. The radio, tucked away behind what served as his work desk, played a medley of country music and blues, and the fan above him cycled too slowly to do much more than stir the warm air around it, turned on in lieu of having to pay for actual air conditioning like it might trick customers into thinking it was cooler inside than out. Not that he got many people coming in and out at random. The usual crowd knew when his peak hours were, knew when to come in with envelopes stuffed with cash and  _ special orders _ for their clients. 

 

It was rarely this early that he conducted real business, which left him with plenty of time to work on the various cars - sometimes two, sometimes three, always with something a little  _ extra  _ \- parked throughout his garage. This was where he was in his element. Smelling of grease and sweat, his hair tied back and his shirt lost somewhere to the pile of dirty oil rags in a trash bag hidden out-of-sight, Jesse McCree would've been content to spend the rest of his life right here - elbow-deep in a custom engine with true beauty just a few scant feet away. 

 

He glanced at it, from time to time, taking a moment to bask in the impeccable polish and classy accents that adorned the McLaren left there for him by recent-repeat customer  _ Mr. Shimada _ . Mr. Shimada, who had rolled in one afternoon with a grimace and a curtly-worded, thinly-veiled demand. 

 

Jesse hadn't been able to say no to  _ that _ . 

 

Not when both the car and the owner were absolutely  _ gorgeous _ . 

 

Mr. Shimada ( _ Hanzo _ , as Jesse had found out after a little bit of prodding and a few salacious comments), was in California on  _ business _ . What kind of business, Jesse didn't know, and didn't think he needed to. All he knew - all he cared about - was that Hanzo was there for several months, and during his stay he needed someone to look after his impressive, expensive,  _ illegal  _ car. Jesse McCree's motor service had come highly recommended. With such a raving review (and the promise of getting his hands all over that slick, polished exterior), Jesse had agreed, and from there on out Hanzo had brought his car by for regular tune-ups and frequent cleanings. 

 

Perhaps a little  _ too  _ frequent, after their initial meeting, but Jesse wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when it kept on giving in the form of generous tips and a frequent eyeful of Hanzo's ass in impeccably-tailored trousers. If the man wanted to come by and linger longer than strictly necessary while Jesse spit-shined the hood of his car, well - Jesse wasn't going to be the one to complain. 

 

He was looking forward to it, actually. Hanzo had come by just two days prior with some minor issue - a strange rattle from the engine that Jesse hadn't heard at all and a minuscule 'scratch' that was easily removed merely by running his spit-slicked thumb over the spot - and spent the minutes waiting for a taxi watching Jesse work, standing as he always did (despite Jesse's frequent invitations to take a sit anywhere he wished) and periodically glancing at his phone. Jesse enjoyed their not-uncomfortable silences maybe more than he had any right to.

 

The diagnoses hadn't take long, and after working out whatever small kinks there may have been - the car did not agree much with the California dust, it seemed - he'd put on an extra coat of polish and waxed to a high, glossy sheen. Then all that had been left to do was wait on Mr. Shimada to pick it up.

 

Jesse almost hoped the man got in an accident - nothing major, of course - so that he would be back sooner. He hadn't worked up the courage (or foolishness) to ask the man out proper, and given that Hanzo never seemed to respond to what few advances Jesse made, he figured the man wasn't interested to begin with. And why would Jesse risk the steady flow of cash and the appearance of a pretty man in his shop for what would most likely be disinterest? 

 

He wasn't nearly so stupid, 

 

That didn't mean he wasn't a little giddy when he made the phone call, heart beating double-time tap between his ribs when Hanzo's voicemail recording sounded through the earpiece, a little static-y but no less charming. Jesse left a message and ignored his own thoughts. Nothing good would come of what he was thinking, and it would be best to forget Mr. Shimada as anything more than a lucrative business venture. 

 

It was with that thought that Jesse returned to work that same early afternoon, falling into a rhythm that was only interrupted by a sharp, accented " _ Yo _ ," that most definitely did not belong to one Mr. Shimada. 

 

Jesse whipped around, catching the shock of green hair long before his mind registered anything else, though maybe he should've made the effort to pay attention to what was being said, rather that taking in the sight the man made of himself. 

 

He  _ looked  _ like Hanzo, just a little, though the grin and the plunging v-neck of his shirt would have looked entirely out-of-place on the man Jesse knew. 

 

"Didn't know Hanzo had a brother." Though apparently, he didn't know him very well at all. "Welcome, partner." A smile settled easily across his features, at home among the dimples and the bristles of his beard, and Jesse reached for his oil rag, wiping his hands off so that he could offer one to the green-haired beauty in front of him. "Pleasure t'meet ya." And what a pleasure, indeed. "Name's McCree, but you can call me Jesse. Gonna have'ta see some kinda ID or somethin', though, before I just hand the keys over. Don't want Mr. Shimada comin' round t'kill me for givin' his car away." 

 

Jesse McCree had a handsome smile to match his handsome face, a flash slightly-crooked teeth and dimples that compelled Genji to grin toothily back. He was  _ gorgeous _ \-- why had Hanzo not mentioned this to him before? 

 

Actually, Genji realized why: Hanzo wouldn't have wanted his little brother to know what their mechanic was this attractive. He knew where Genji's mind would go. He knew that Genji leaped on every opportunity to seduce attractive men and women, and he complained of this hedonistic tendency often. Hanzo did not like to mix business with pleasure, and so he probably didn't want Genji bedding the mechanic they worked with. It was 'unprofessional', or some such nonsense.

 

It made sense now why Hanzo had always been so adamant on going to the garage alone, anyway. Genji counted his fortune for having decided to come here on a whim. Still wearing a wide smile that, coupled with the twinkle in his honey-brown eyes, looked just a bit wicked, Genji accepted Jesse's proffered hand and gave it a firm shake.

 

"The pleasure is all mine," he replied warmly, as affable as always, though there was a hint of a purr to his voice and Genji made no secret of the way his eyes dropped down to glance at Jesse's bare chest. He wasn't one for subtleties; he hadn't the patience for them. He kept his hand clasped with Jesse's a few moments longer than necessary, appreciating the strength of his grip and the roughness of his grease-stained palms. When Genji pulled away, it was to slip a hand into his back pocket and take out his wallet. He slipped out his driver's license as he spoke, handing it over to Jesse for inspection.

 

"I am Genji Shimada. You can call me 'Genji' --  _ Mr. Shimada  _ sounds too formal."

 

When dealing with shady business, there were few safe-guards against falling into a trap or getting swindled out of his money and his life. No paper trails meant no proof, and with communication often coded to avoid the risk of discovery, it was easy to miss something important, or misunderstand a proposal.

 

Luckily for Jesse, he'd always been a good judge of character and situations. Keen eyes scanned the ID offered to him, front and back, before he returned it, still grinning and well-aware of the look Genji gave him.

Jesse could pick up on blatant interest, and he knew that he made for quite the pretty picture, all greased up and hairy like he'd just stepped out of a seventies porno. Genji Shimada looked like that kind of man who would appreciate that. He looked like the kind of man that would appreciate a lot of things, if the way he licked his lips and stared Jesse down like they were caught in a dare was anything to go by.

 

"Well,  _ Genji _ ," he rumbled, voice pitched just a little lower and grin predatory, "You'll be pleased'ta know she's good as new." Without a scratch or a speck of dust to speak of. Jesse gestured towards her with a wide sweep of his arm. "A real beauty you've got here. You and your brother have great taste." Both in cars and in designer jeans, it seemed. Jesse got himself a good look on his way to a lockbox, mounted on the wall with a few keys dangling on hooks inside.

 

"I appreciate ya comin' by, partner. Guessin' Mr. Shimada isn't available today?" It was unfortunate, but now Jesse had a whole  _ new _ Shimada to discover, and he had to admit he was more than interested in that handsome, green-haired man with a charming smile and a wicked smirk. He fished the McLaren's key out of the box and brought it over, offering it with a lingering look first at the car, then at the man who owned it.

 

"Mr. Shimada paid upfront, so you don't owe nothin' for the service."

 

Jesse made no great effort to hide the intrigued glances he was throwing Genji's way.  _ Good _ . If Genji's attraction wasn't one-sided, it meant he could be that much more blatant with his flirtations. 

 

"Hanzo has business out of town," Genji answered, refusing to call his own brother  _ mister Shimada.  _ It made him think of their father, though that was probably the point. Hanzo was to take over for the elderly man as  _ oyabun _ soon, after all. 

 

Genji did not envy him in the slightest. In fact, he thought it a blessing that he had been born the youngest sibling. It meant the burden of responsibility rested squarely on Hanzo's shoulders, and not his own.

 

Genji took the keys as they were offered to him, spinning them idly around his index finger as he continued to drink in the delicious sight of the man standing before him. It would be such a shame to end their business here, with that sly sparkle in Jesse's warm brown eyes and the way he was so obviously reciprocating Genji's interest. 

 

Emboldened, Genji caught the car keys in his palm and cocked his head to one side, showing off the long line of his neck and the faded smattering of bruises that ran along his left shoulder.

 

"But he did not tip you, did he?" He asked, somehow making that innocent question sound anything but. Genji was grinning wolfishly again. "Good work should not go unrewarded. Tell me, Jesse, would you like to go for a ride with me?"

 

Jesse had never been one for intricate mating rituals. Usually emboldened by a look across the bar or a sly glance from the other side of the room, he rarely let such things as propriety stop him from striking up a conversation when he knew it would lead somewhere.

 

This, probably, should have been different. Genji was the brother of a _ very important _ person. He likely was a very important person himself. Moreover, he was a paying customer, and Jesse knew that logic dictated he not mix his business with his pleasure. He should've thanked the man for the offer and declined, but even as Jesse _ knew _ this he was already nodding, pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. He'd been dying to take the car out for a spin, to even sit in it long enough to feel the engine purr. Unfortunately, it was frowned upon to take customers' vehicles out for joyrides, and he'd only driven it enough to park it where it needed to be. It had given him barely a taste, and he wanted more.

 

"You're too kind'ta offer, Genji." And Jesse was fool enough to agree. A ride around the block in a car like that and a man like  _ that _ felt like a wet dream he'd had once or several times, especially when Genji tilted his head just so to reveal the long line of his hickey-dotted neck. Jesse ached to add to that collection, to cover the bruises with his own and see where else the man was so attractively-spotted, but he tore his gaze away if only briefly to go find a shirt, pulling a thin, grey tanktop off the back of the only chair in his 'office space' and slipping it on.

 

"I'd be honored."

 

Genji was not at all surprised that Jesse had agreed to accompany him; he had looked as eager to inspect the car as its owner, and Genji had yet to encounter anyone in Los Angeles unwilling to take the McLaren for a spin. Few could turn down such a tantalizingly rare offer, especially when Genji was the one making it.

 

Of course, he had every intention of making this more than just a brief joyride around the corner, if Jesse was amenable. Genji had the feeling he would be.

 

Energized by the prospect, he laughed -- the sound bright and musical -- as he led the way toward the car, remotely unlocking the doors and triggering them to scissor open with a quiet  _ whir _ . He turned, then, to face Jesse, throwing him the keys as Genji moved around to the passenger side. 

 

"I can tell you are a man who likes his thrills," Genji casually remarked, though there was nothing casual about the way his eyes were moving up and down Jesse, now, sizing him up like he was trying to discern the best way to devour him. He sank into his leather seat as Jesse approached the driver's side -- on the right, for the car was of European make -- and made a show of keeping his knees spread and his gaze pointedly fixed on Jesse. "So do I." He winked, utterly unabashed, put kept speaking before Jesse could really respond. "Have you ever driven a car like this before?"

 

Genji was refreshingly unabashed. He made no secret of what he wanted, and as Jesse caught the keys and slid into the driver's seat, he found himself far less keen on mentally going through the list of why he shouldn't be doing this at all. Instead, he was distracted - first by the impressive dash in front of him, then by the man all but spread eagle next to him.

 

This was a great idea.

 

The engine roared to life a moment later, quieting to a rumbling purr under his palms.

 

"Nothing quite like _ this _ , darlin'." The occasional Corvette, a Jaguar on the rare occasion. He'd once sat behind the wheel of a Maserati, but this? This was in a league of its own, and Jesse leaned back just to bask in it, shooting Genji a wide, carefree grin. "Buckle up, buttercup." He didn't plan on holding back if they got a couple hundred feet of open road.

 

Jesse clicked his own seatbelt in place and adjusted the seat under him, backing out of the garage and into the adjoining street with barely-repressed glee.

 

"So, where will I be taking my lovely guest this afternoon, hm?"

 

He had been prepared to let Jesse drive wherever he wished, to perhaps aimlessly cruise the highway to his heart's content, but he was asking Genji for specific directions. And, as far as Genji was concerned, that meant that Jesse felt they should have a destination in mind. Sliding his sunglasses back down onto the bridge of his nose, Genji gestured up ahead. 

 

"Go left at those lights and turn onto the I-10 east," he instructed before, leaning forward, he brushed his hand across the back of Jesse's knuckles on the gear stick on his way to turn on the A/C. Once the settings were to his liking, Genji began idly fiddling with the radio, all the while throwing Jesse surreptitious glances out of the corner of his eyes. "Do you have anywhere to be this afternoon, Jesse?" 

 

As before, the innocent question did not sound particularly innocent, not with the sly smile pulling at one corner of Genji's mouth. He was watching Jesse openly, now, far less interested in the passing blur of LA than he was with the gorgeous man sitting beside him. He liked the way Jesse looked, right then, like he could barely contain his exhilaration. And his  _ hands  _ \-- the way they were working the steering wheel and the gear stick was almost reverent, and Genji wondered if he might have those hands on  _ him _ by the end of the evening.

 

He certainly hoped so.

 

"I would hate to distract you from something more important," he added, not sounding the least bit sincere; Genji would very gladly be a distraction.

 

"Oh, darlin'." There was a very real possibility Jesse would regret this in the morning, or find himself in a situation he had no business getting mired in, but Jesse was a thrill-seeker by nature. He loved his fast cars, his strong liquor, the lights of the strip clubs that illuminated the night sky. He was not a man that did things by halves, and with as open of an invitation as the lovely man beside him was giving, Jesse certainly wasn't about to throw this offer away. "For you? I'm free as a bird."

 

The stoplight came upon them quick, followed by a sharp left turn they practically  _ glided _ into and then a quick uphill ramp onto the highway, which was blessedly sparse this time of day and offered Jesse four lanes to play with.

 

Jesse was enthralled, both by the performance of the vehicle under his control and by the not-so-accidental brushes of skin over his knuckles, which sent a spike of pleasure down his spine the likes of which such chaste touches had never done before. "I ain't got much goin' on today." He had work, of course, but the beauty of having his own business meant he could keep his own hours, and no one would dare rifle through the garage in his absence, not when there wasn't much to steal or vandalize there to begin with.

 

Genji's eyes practically lit up at that word --  _ darling _ \-- as it was uttered in that smooth, honeyed drawl. Oh, he could get used to hearing Jesse say that. Would he call Genji  _ darling _ in bed? Would he whimper sweet nothings when Genji had a mouth around his dick? Genji loved it when his partners were vocal, loved being called pet names -- loved being  _ worshiped _ , really. Genji thrived on the attention, and he had an inkling that Jesse was the sort of man who liked giving it.

 

His day was just getting better and better.

 

"Is that so?" Genji hummed, sounding thoroughly pleased with Jesse's response. The engine purred and vibrated through his leather seat, making it that much harder to keep still. Fast cars and attractive people were two of Genji's favourite things, so it should really be no surprise that he was heating up already. He was impatient to reach the penthouse, but it was another fifteen minutes' drive away, at least. In the meantime, Genji was left in the confined space of the McLaren, the smell of fresh car mingling with that of engine grease and sweat and a faint inkling of cologne. It left him feeling antsy, his hands itching to do  _ something _ . He wanted to put them all over Jesse. He wanted to make him squirm in his seat as much as Genji was sorely tempted to. It was really only a matter of time before Genji acted on his impulse. After all, unlike his brother Hanzo, Genji wasn't nearly so self-controlled. 

 

If his first touch had been 'accidental', this one was exploratory; Genji brushed his fingertips along the back of Jesse's palm, trailing a feather-light path up his hairy forearm and intently watching his reaction.

 

"I can come up with a few ways to occupy your afternoon, then, if you are interested." He was. Genji could tell. Still, he would wait for more explicit permission from Jesse before he proceeded with bolder touches. "Would you like that?"

 

The first touch hadn't been much - easily mistaken for and dismissed as an accident. This one, however,  _ this one _ carried with it intent that made Jesse  _ shiver _ , glance briefly flickering to the road ahead of them before turning, with far more interest, on the man beside him. 

 

"I think I would." Even if all his afternoon involved was a joyride in this car and Genji's hands trailing sensation down his arm, Jesse couldn't find it within him to complain. He had a feeling, though, that there would be far more in store for him that day. The way Genji watched him was nearly predatory, that grin on his face wicked and wild and tempting. Jesse ached to lean over and bite it, wanted to suck Genji's bottom lip between his teeth and see if he could break that facade of cool flirtatiousness in favor of a panting, wrecked mess. 

 

Instead, he let the wheel go, driving nearly ninety with one hand while the other curled around Genji's wrist, catching it mid-air so that he could bring up to his mouth. "I'm  _ hopin _ '," he murmured, breath hot over Genji's knuckles and the bristles of his beard tickling the soft skin on the back of his hand, "That I'm readin' this right, sweetheart, and that you don't intend ta drop me off at the curb somewhere." Wouldn't be the first time, at any rate, but for all that Jesse had only just met him, Genji didn't seem to be the kind of guy that delighted in such games. No; he wouldn't put forth the effort unless he expected some sort of worthwhile outcome, and Jesse was only more than eager to deliver. 

 

He pressed his lips to the back of Genji's hand, tongue darting out briefly just to wet the webbing between his fingers, then grinned and let him go, sliding into the far left lane with practiced ease so that he could zip faster towards their destination. 

 

Jesse McCree was as charming as he was handsome, and when his chapped lips softly kissed the pack of Genji's palm, followed by a devious kitten-lick, Genji was infatuated. He wanted this man, and if they weren't currently speeding down the interstate he would have climbed into Jesse's lap and slid his hands up that wickedly tight tank top of his. Jesse looked so much better shirtless. It was a shame to cover up that impressive expanse of his chest, with those thick, hairy pectorals and his darkly tanned skin. Genji could hardly wait to put his mouth on it. He could hardly wait to touch Jesse all over, really.

 

It was only a matter of time before his impatience and excitement got the better of him.

 

"I would not  _ dream _ of it, sweet-heart," Genji crooned, trying the word out on his own tongue. It sounded so much better in Jesse's buttery dulcet; when Genji said it, he thought he sounded more ridiculous than endearing. He could not help the little trill of laughter that escaped him at this realization, though Genji hoped that Jesse did not think it was mocking, that Genji was laughing at  _ Jesse _ and not at himself. As if to reassure him -- and because, quite frankly, Genji could not resist any longer -- he dropped a palm onto Jesse's knee. " _ Dar-ling. Baby.  _ Do you flirt with everyone like that?"

 

He didn't wait for Jesse to answer, giving his knee a gentle squeeze before his hand began climbing up his thigh at a slow, teasing crawl. "I like it. It's charming."

 

"Only the ones I'd like'ta see naked." Even if Genji was mocking him, the way he laughed was so pleasant that Jesse didn't think he'd have it in him to be offended. 

 

His grip was slack enough that it was easy for Genji to slide his hand out, and Jesse, bless him, thought he'd be able to focus long enough to get to where they were going. He took the wheel in both hands and had just enough time to relax into the leather of the seat, sinking down and peering out the front window with an open, giddy expression as they whizzed by traffic on their right, cresting over a hill with the city blurring by on either side. 

 

Genji's hand was back on him, palm warm through the fabric of Jesse's jeans, and that would've been all fine and good had it not started to inch upwards a moment later, distracting Jesse all over again. He was already faintly flushed and sporting a half-chub which pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and he made no secret of either fact, spreading his legs just that little bit wider to accommodate those wandering fingers. 

 

"I'm glad I could charm ya," he said after a moment spent gathering himself again, and peered curiously over at Genji. "Do you take all your brother's mechanics on joy rides?" 

 

"You are our only mechanic," Genji dismissively replied, his lips quirked into an almost devious smile. He refrained from mentioning that, if they  _ did  _ have another mechanic as attractive as Jesse, he most certainly would have made a point of taking them on a 'joy ride'. Genji didn't want to give Jesse the mistaken impression that he wasn't special, or that Genji's taste in men wasn't at least somewhat discerning. It was --  _ somewhat _ . Jesse was by far one of the more attractive men Genji had seduced since coming to America, at any rate.

 

"We will be taking exit 110," Genji said in that same distracted, off-handed tone of voice as before. He was presently focused on crawling his hand up Jesse's warm thigh, in watching the obvious bulge that had started growing between his legs -- which Jesse had spread in wordless invitation. Who was Genji to turn down such an enticing offer? 

 

It wasn't even a consideration; his hand was cupping Jesse's cock through his pants a moment later, his palm indulgently grinding against the stiffening flesh. He  _ felt _ big, as far as Genji could tell, and this excited him, had him sorely tempted to pop open the zipper of Jesse's jeans and take his dick out for a more thorough inspection. It wouldn't be the first time Genji had fooled around with someone while driving -- which was one of many reasons why Hanzo loathed lending him the McLaren.

  
  


"I would like to see you naked, too," he stated, not bothering to feign coyness as he leaned in closer to graze his lips against the shell of Jesse's ear. Genji was nothing if not forward with his intentions. "I did the moment I saw you, if I am to be honest. You are a very handsome man."

 

Jesse laughed, the sound smoky and far too warm. "So did your florist or your caterer give you  _ those _ ?" He wasn't upset - far from it - but it was only fair to tease, fingers reaching across the console box to brush against the open front of Genji's shirt, where the bruises darkly mottled his throat and looked like the result of a very good night. Jesse could only hope that they'd be able to recreate that. 

 

They were getting off to a damn good start, at any rate. 

 

His fingers fell away when a warm palm closed around the front of his jeans, cupping his dick through the fabric and giving a squeeze firm enough that Jesse jerked his hips into it automatically. It felt  _ good _ , between the adrenaline, the prospect of fucking a very attractive stranger, and the purr of a car engine as under them as they raced down the highway, and Jesse made no secret of his enjoyment, exhaling a breathy moan while at the same time subtly trying to grind his dick against Genji's hand. 

 

"You're a sight yourself, sweetheart." If it was possible, his voice pitched even lower, down to a breathy, smoky rumble that nearly matched the purr of the car. 

 

Genji didn't bother to answer the question, well-aware that Jesse was only teasing, that it was probably meant to be rhetorical. Besides, it wasn't as though he made any real secret of the fact that he slept around -- not that Genji openly bragged about it, but the crowds he ran with knew how much of a shameless hedonist he was. Jesse, clever as he so clearly was, had probably figured that out by now.

 

"Such a flatterer." Genji didn't sound at all displeased; in fact, he was preening at the compliment, titillated to the point of laughter as he leaned in even closer and pressed his lips against Jesse's bearded jaw. It was a quick, teasing peck, followed by another against Jesse's ear, then another few down the side of his throat. At the same time, Genji continued grinding and squeezing Jesse's dick through his jeans, thrilled by those deep, appreciative moans he was making and the insistent twitches of his hips. Genji loved when his partners were responsive.

 

"I look forward to taking you into my bed. Or--" He hummed, as if reconsidering this, his thumb dragging across what felt to be the rock-hard head of Jesse's cock. "--maybe the pool, first. Or perhaps the hot tub. Have you ever fucked in a hot tub before?"

 

Jesse wasn't small by any stretch of the imagination. From broad shoulders built up over years of hauling metal and lifting weights to the tree-trunk thickness of his thighs, he was thick and strong, but the moment that Genji dragged fingers over the bulge tenting the front of his jeans, he all but melted, breath hitching at the back of his throat and exhaling on a low, rumbling moan. 

 

"Wherever you'd like me, sweetheart," he murmured, flushed from arousal and excitement and tilting his chin into the press of kisses Genji so generously lavished on his throat. "Twice in some places." He was rapidly losing focus on the road, but luckily, Genji gestured him towards the appropriate exit not moments later and Jesse was all too eager to fly onto the off-ramp, grunting when the press of teeth left his skin a pale, flushed red.

 

"Ain't ever fucked in a hot tub before." Much less sat in one, but Jesse didn't feel the need to mention that. The prospect of having the gorgeous, green-haired man beside him on any surface was too tempting, and once they were slowed to a more reasonable speed on the city streets, Jesse allowed himself the luxury of reaching across the center console, large palm settling over Genji's inner thigh and giving it a pointed squeeze. 

 

Jesse McCree had big hands with thick knuckles and calluses pads that were stained a faded black by engine grease. They were the sort of hands Genji imagined would be more rough than gentle, strong hands that were neither soft nor delicate. He shuddered at the thought. He wanted them all over them, wanted Jesse to touch him roughly and desperately. Genji was not fragile. He could take a bit of punishment and manhandling without bending, much less breaking. Truth be told, he could probably put Jesse on his back in a split-second, if he so desired, before the man had so much as a chance to bat an eyelash.

 

Genji liked that thought, too: Jesse on his back, pinned, writhing, saying all those sickly sweet words ( _ darlin', baby, sweetheart _ ) while Genji put his mouth on him.

 

He was already worked up by the time one of Jesse's aforementioned big, callused hands squeezed his thigh. He wasn't gentle, but he also certainly wasn't too rough --  _ firm _ , more like. In any case, the touch had Genji moaning appreciatively into the side of his throat. If they had been growing uncomfortable before, now his pants felt near-painfully tight, and Genji could hardly wait to strip himself bare and do the same to the tantalizing specimen seated beside him.

 

"Then I will be your first," he said, voice dropping to a low, breathy purr. There was a huff of laughter at the end of that statement. "Here. Turn right just before this set of lights, into the parking lot."

 

As he spoke, Genji continued to nuzzle behind Jesse's ear and grind his palm in slow circles against his clothed erection. To Jesse's credit, he followed instructions beautifully even while distracted; it was automatic, almost, either a consequence of his being that good at driving that he could easily multitask, or perhaps because he was just  _ good _ at being told what to do.

 

The latter was of particular interest to Genji. He wasn't particularly bossy -- nothing like his older brother, anyway -- but he didn't mind being that way in the bedroom, with partners who  _ liked _ being bossed around. He had slept with a few men and women like that. And Genji, flexible and easy-going when it came to sex, had been happy to oblige them.

 

"Park there." He indicated a reserved parking space nearest to the elevator, and waited only long enough for Jesse to back in before he was on him -- not quite literally, for there wasn't enough space and the car was still running. But Genji did pull Jesse in for a kiss with an insistent tug at his collar, already worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and tongue while he continued fondling his dick through his jeans.

 

Maybe it was both. Jesse spent many hours behind the wheel, driving for work or for pleasure or both at the same time in the form of the occasional illegal street race, and he knew how to handle a car. He was also impossibly eager to please in exchange for any scrap of attention, and Genji was lavishing him with  _ so much _ that it was impossible for Jesse to do anything but comply.

He groaned when Genji rubbed him firm enough to make his dick ache, and was all too quick to comply with the order, twisting the wheel when they reached the garage entrance and backing efficiently into the parking spot.

 

Some part of him was a little disappointed, admittedly, at the loss of the engine purr under his fingertips, but Genji took care of that feeling right quick, yanking him around for a kiss that was all tongues and teeth and warm little exhales against his chin.

 

One large, callused hand curled around Genji's jaw, where a thin layer of stubble scratched against his palm and had him wondering what that would feel like between his thighs, while with his other hand Jesse pointedly squeezed, fingers dancing up the inseam of Genji's sinfully-tight jeans until he reached the crotch. He was pleased to note that Genji seemed just as affected, though that shouldn't of come as a surprise given the way the man was kissing him like he might never get enough. Jesse rubbed his dick for a reaction and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, then they were both parting, eager to tumble out of the car and into the heat of the garage.

 

It didn't matter that Jesse wasn't touching him anymore; all that mattered was that when the door was shut and locked, Jesse could pull Genji closer, could get firm, callused hands on his hips and under his shirt and shove him up against he car, ducking his chin to finally add to the map of hickeys on the man's throat.

 

Jesse left one mark, then another, over Genji's throat and under his jaw and along the bob of his adam's apple, all whiskery burns and wet, over-eager suction that, once Jesse shifted away, was left sensitive and stinging and a pretty, mottled pink. "Hope the rest of ya tastes as good as that, darlin'," he rumbled, moving in for another taste before Genji could think to push him off.

 

" _ Ah-- _ " Genji's voice echoed in the parking garage as he gasped, his head thrown back and his mouth pulled into a wickedly pleased grin as Jesse pushed him back against the car and sucked hickeys into his throat. He loved being bit -- it was one of his favourite, albeit more  _ vanilla _ sex acts. There was something about being marked up, being left physical reminders of the men and women he had been intimate with, that made it feel that much more  _ real _ , more exhilarating. He wanted to remember them. He wanted to be able to look in the mirror and see bruises dotting his skin, and try to recount who had left them. Genji knew he would have no trouble doing so with whatever marks Jesse left him today. He was sober, for one, and Jesse McCree was the sort of man Genji did not think he could ever easily forget.

 

He rocked his hips, suddenly eager for more friction from the hand cupping his groin. It really was getting painful, now, wearing such form-fitting jeans when his dick was hard and pressed against the zipper. Genji might like a bit of pain, but not at the expense of pleasure, and certainly not when he would rather have Jesse's hand  _ directly _ on his cock than just groping him through his jeans.

 

So, he shoved at the other man's shoulders, beginning to corral him away from the McLaren and toward the private elevator just a few paces away.

 

"I hope so, too," Genji purred, throwing Jesse a sly wink as he kept one hand at his shoulders and used the other to snatch his keys back. There was a small card on the keychain, and Genji used this to tap at the elevator's console so that the doors slide open with a quiet  _ hum.  _ Then, still grinning, he walked Jesse in and crowded him against the opposite wall, pausing for only the split-second it took to tap the card against the wall panel again.

 

It was only a dozen or so floors up until they would reach the penthouse, but Genji was feeling impatient. Unconcerned with the (slight) possibility that anyone else might step into the elevator, he attached his teeth to the side of Jesse's throat and began to deftly unbuckle his belt and unfasten his pants. He wanted to see for himself if Jesse's dick was as big as it felt through his jeans, because if so--

 

Well, if so, Genji could hardly wait.

 

"What about you?" he asked, after sucking a faded red mark against Jesse's neck and tilting his head back to meet his eyes. It looked nearly innocent, if not for the glint in his honey-brown eyes, and the hand that Genji now had slipped down the front of Jesse's pants and briefs to palm his dick directly. "Do  _ you _ taste good,  _ sweet-heart _ ?”

 

Jesse did not get to indulge in the taste of Genji's throat for terribly long. The flavor of salt and cologne lingered though, even as he was nudged and shoved and tugged towards the what he could only assume was either the elevator or a set of stairs. It was the former, of course, because this was one of those posh buildings that had access to both, and Jesse couldn't help but whistle low when Genji did little more than swipe his card to have the doors opening. Everything here was fancier than he was used to, but Jesse had little time to feel self-conscious, for hardly had they started moving that Genji was on him, pushing him against the wall so that he could get at the soft line of his throat with sharp teeth and soft lips. 

 

Jesse groaned and let his head fall back, content to hold on to the ride while deft fingers worked open his zipper and fly and a hand wrapped around his dick. It jumped into Genji's hand, hot and heavy and already drooling thick drops of pre into the inside of his underwear, which were stained at the front and clung obscenely to the outline of his dick. 

 

"Mn, dunno,  _ darlin _ '. Guess you'll have to try me and find out," he breathed out his tease and bit back another needy sound, trying to maintain some composure while the vixen against his front took him apart bit by bit. Jesse wasn't great at holding himself in check, though. He rarely did things by halves, and when he was being so wonderfully encouraged, he saw no reason as to why he shouldn't drag his fingers through Genji's hair and muss up the perfect coif of it, or pluck at the hem of his shirt until he could get his hands under the thin fabric and drag them over Genji's trim waist. 

 

He was  _ fit _ , or rather,  _ sculpted _ , all tight muscle and sleek lines that Jesse wanted to trace with his tongue and his teeth and the tips of his fingers. He managed the latter, now, and traced his way over Genji's stomach while his hips stuttered into the firm grip wrapped around his dick and his head tipped back for the wicked trail of teeth along his throat. 

 

"I can hardly wait to  _ try you _ ," Genji purred, laying on the suggestion thick. There was no point in being subtle about it. Similarly, he didn't try to keep himself quiet, humming and sighing encouragingly as Jesse's callused fingertips mussed his hair and slid up across his stomach. He had no compunctions about being vocal during sex -- or vocal during anything, really. Genji did not like to hide himself behind pomp and dignity like his older brother always did; he was more  _ honest _ than that, more unashamed. 

 

Besides, he doubted that even Hanzo would be able to keep composed and quiet with someone the likes of  _ Jesse McCree _ touching him, with that buttery voice pitched low and his mouth pulled into a charmingly crooked smile. With a groan, Genji sunk his teeth into a patch of skin up the side of his throat and sucked another hickey there, shivering as he did. The hand around Jesse's cock, meanwhile, began to slowly stroke him until the fat head of it was hard and glistening with precum from where it peaked out past the waistband of his briefs. It would look undeniably obscene if anyone were to step onto the elevator now, but rather than deter him, the thought only made Genji that much more tempted to drop onto his knees and suck Jesse off right there. It wouldn't be the first time he had given head in a semi-public space -- or the  _ elevator _ , even. Nor would it be the first time he was caught.

 

There was no danger this afternoon, though, not with most everyone at work for the day. They reached the penthouse floor without incident, and when the elevator doors slid open it was to an empty hallway. Genji helpfully tucked Jesse's dick back into his underwear, then caught him by the hand and led them the rest of the way to the apartment. Another tap of his key-card had the door clicking unlocked, and Genji used his back to push it open as he turned to plant an eager kiss on Jesse's lips.

 

Jesse was finding out right quick that the more time he spent with Genji, the more and more he liked the man. He liked that Genji didn't dance around the subject of sex, and that it was easy to tell exactly what he wanted, the way he shoved and nudged and pressed in closer to try and keep Jesse trapped between himself and the elevator wall. He liked that Genji was so openly physical, so visceral as to sink his teeth into Jesse's skin and leave him with a line of mottled hickeys that no shirt would be able to cover. 

 

He  _ especially  _ liked the hand on his dick. Genji knew what he was doing - no surprise there, and did it expertly, twisting and squeezing and leaving Jesse shuddering and grateful for the support of the wall behind him. His fingers flexed where they gripped bright green hair, a clear sign that Jesse was getting close, that any more and he would be coming an elevator and bringing their party to a swift and unfortunate end. 

 

Luckily, the elevator dinged to a stop and Genji was pulling away, leaving to Jesse to follow with his jaw a little slack and his dick tenting the front of his jeans. 

 

The suite itself was  _ decadent _ , beautifully-decorated and worth more than everything Jesse had ever owned combined, but Jesse had eyes only for the picture of perfection that had him caught up in a stumbling kiss. Behind them, the door clicked shut - kicked in place by a highly-polished shoe - and in front of him Genji tugged him along, past a low table and couches and through the main room to a destination Jesse didn't pay much attention to too caught up with his hands under Genji's ass and his teeth sucking on Genji's bottom lip. 

 

Genji was glad to have the penthouse to himself for once; he didn't usually dare to bring home lovers, unless he was too drunk to see the danger in it or to remember if Hanzo was home or not. Almost invariably, Genji ended up with his guest being thrown out of the suite and a very indignant Hanzo lecturing him on  _ responsibility _ and some such nonsense for the rest of the night. 

 

But there was no Hanzo to yell at him today, neither about keeping his shoes on inside nor about his choice in bed partner. Genji led the way to his bedroom, practically dragging Jesse there -- not that he  _ needed  _ to, for it was clear Jesse was following him willingly. Once inside, Jesse was pushed back against the door frame and Genji was sliding smoothly down to his knees in front of him. 

 

"So  _ handsome _ . I bet you look even better naked," Genji mentioned slyly, fingers toying pointedly with the hem of Jesse's shirt before he hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans and promptly tugged them down Jesse's thighs. He leaned in, then, nuzzling against the clothed bulge of Jesse's dick and pressing his mouth against the outline of the head. He could taste the salty and bitterness of precum where it had dripped from Jesse's cock and soaked through his briefs, but it was the heady, musky smell of him  that had Genji's blood pumping and a pleased sigh falling past his lips. 

 

He teased Jesse like this for only a few moments before taking mercy on him and beginning to slowly tug down the cotton fabric of his briefs. His dick nearly bopped Genji on the nose the moment it sprung  free from it's confines, and he laughed as he narrowly dodged it and then leaned back in again to place an almost affectionate kiss to the tip. 

 

"You have such a nice cock," Genji purred, glancing up at Jesse as he pressed another kiss against the shaft. "I must not be the first person to tell you that."

 

Jesse was shoved against another door, pressed flat to the wood and kept there by another searing-hot kiss and sultry, murmured words. Then Genji was sinking to his knees and Jesse nearly followed him, groaning sweetly with his head thrown back against the wood. 

 

He looked  _ great _ naked - this Jesse knew without question, though he said nothing at the risk of coming off too cocky. He grinned, though, flashing a toothy smile down to the bright green head of hair now between his parted legs. Genji looked real good too, especially with his hands on Jesse's thighs and his mouth so tantalizingly close to Jesse's clothes crotch. It didn't remain clothed for long. Genji tugged his jeans down, then spent another minute making Jesse groan, wicked mouth hovering just over his dick and making him twitch. 

 

" _ Fuck _ , darlin'." Jesse couldn't get enough of the view. His dick was thick and flushed at the tip, bobbing obscenely as it was released into the cook air of the room. 

 

"Ain't no one ever said it so  _ sweetly _ ," he panted, carding his fingers through Genji's hair and, likely to test the water, tightening his grip on those bright strands. "Fuck, you're a tease, ain't ya?" With that coy smile shot his way Jesse already had his answer, but he filled the silence with mindless praise anyway, tugging until the tip of his dick dragged over Genji's cheek and left a filthy trail of pre smeared on his skin. "Gonna suck me,  _ sweetheart _ ? Bet that pretty mouth's good for more than flirtin'." 

 

Jesse was by no means pushy -- certainly nowhere near as pushy as  _ Genji _ sometimes tended to be -- but he knew what he wanted and clearly wasn't afraid to ask for it. Genji liked that; he liked how straightforward Jesse was. It was a refreshing change of pace from the life he had come from in Hanamura, and even from the nightclubs spent with an entourage of men and women who wanted Genji's body as much as they lusted after his money.

 

There were was no overture of ulterior intentions with Jesse as far as Genji could tell, and he liked to think he was a pretty good read of people after having honed the skill over the past many years. He grinned up at Jesse at the question and the attached compliment. Jesse really did like singing praises, didn't he? Genji found that refreshing, too, and was more than a little eager to reward Jesse's gratuitous compliments with the blowjob he was so clearly hoping for.

 

"Oh, it is," he answered with a toothy smile, and rather than give Jesse an opportunity to respond to that, Genji wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and then wrapped his lips around the fat, leaking head. He took a moment to give a pleased hum and appreciate the girth of it before attempting to take all that he could into his mouth. He had enough experience giving head that his gag reflex wasn't particularly responsive, but Jesse was  _ thick _ , thick enough to stretch his throat if Genji tried to swallow all of him down. 

 

Perhaps he could, with practice, but he settled on sucking Jesse down until his dick prodded the back of his throat, and used his hand to squeeze and pump what he could not swallow. All the while, Genji kept his eyes unabashedly fixed on Jesse's face, paying particularly close attention to his expression. 

 

Genji went on to  _ prove  _ just how good he was, swallowing Jesse's dick without any further preamble. Jesse didn't have the chance to say anything, much less throw back some teasing quip. He was taken over by a groan, head hitting the door with a dull thud. 

 

It was  _ good _ . No one had ever been able to take as much of his dick on the first pass, and the wet heat of Genji's mouth already had Jesse's knees weak, ass clenching against the involuntary need to jerk his hips into the tightness of the other man's throat. Jesse shuddered, anyway, and pet weakly through the bright green strands of Genji's hair, taking a moment to try and compose himself despite the steady suction over the head of his spit-wet dick. 

 

" _ Fuck _ , baby. You weren't kiddin'." He laughed, breathless and a little giddy, and opened his eyes to watch Genji suck him down again, unsure of when he'd closed them but quick to do it again when the sight that greeted him was very nearly too much to handle. Genji looked good like that, though; covered in fading bruises with his slick, pink mouth wrapped around Jesse's dick and his cheeks hollowed out, he made for a pretty picture - prettier than any centerfold Jesse'd ever seen, at any rate. "Ain't gonna last long if you keep on like this." Which was surprising, but it'd been a couple of weeks and Genji was  _ good _ , and Jesse was still riding high off the fast car and the handsome stranger he was falling into bed with. 

 

If they even made it that far. 

 

He could already feel himself getting close, dick twitching against Genji's soft palate and forcing Jesse to twist his fingers in the bright strands of hair. He pulled Genji off with a lewd pop and, before the man could complain, hauled him to his feet and into a kiss, plucking at his shirt until he could get it off and then his belt unbuckled. 

 

At absolutely no point did Genji feel inclined to complain. In fact, he moaned when Jesse tugged at his hair hard enough to pull him off his cock and onto his feet, and was eagerly cooperative when Jesse began divesting him of his clothes. With his shirt gone, the intricate green and gold dragon tattoo that sprawled along his back and crept up his right shoulder was displayed, though Jesse was clearly far more preoccupied with kissing and undressing him to notice. Genji went along with the man-handling, reveling in every touch of those big, strong hands, and groaning in encouragement when they began to fondle his ass.

 

When Jesse started walking him back in the general direction of the bed, Genji decided to make his job a bit 'easier'. He bounced off his feet in one graceful move, wrapping his legs tight around Jesse's hips and his arms around Jesse's shoulders. He knew he was not exactly a featherweight, but Genji had little on him in the way of bulk, all lean lines attributed more to speed than to raw physical strength

 

That was not to say that he could not pin Jesse down --  _ easily _ , no doubt -- but Genji made no moves to do that. Instead, he was content to allow himself to be carried toward the bed, while he all but climbed Jesse like a tree.

 

"You--" Genji said, breathless and on the verge of exhilarated laughter as he scattered kisses along Jesse's forehead and the apples of his cheeks. "--are  _ gorgeous _ . It is a shame I did not discover you sooner." 

 

Because if he had, Genji most certainly would have  _ bedded _ Jesse sooner. Perhaps that was why Hanzo had always been so adamant about going to the garage alone.

 

"And  _ you _ \--" Jesse caught the weight easily, pleased to show off the strength in his biceps and his thighs while he carried Genji across the room and to the oversized bed against the far wall. "-- are truly  _ delicious _ , darlin'." It was a shame. Had Jesse known earlier that Hanzo had a brother (a brother that showed some  _ interest _ , no less) he might've been less keen on  _ pining  _ after Mr. Shimada every time they saw each other at the garage. Genji was just as handsome, with an intricate tattoo arcing across his shoulder and a wild, carefree demeanor, that Jesse had a feeling he might've fallen just as quick for the green-haired beauty wrapped around him as he had for his older brother. 

 

Not that it mattered, much. Hanzo wasn't interested and Genji was, and Jesse would take what he could get, especially when it came wrapped in such a delightful package. 

 

He adjusted his grip, both palms on Genji's ass, with a deep-bellied laugh, making it to the bed without falling or feeling particularly winded. Genji bounced when he was dropped, but before he could move far, Jesse was on him, ducking down to lavish kisses along his bruised throat and over his collarbones. His hands weren't idle in the meantime, either, both picking at the zip and button of Genji's jeans so that Jesse could tug them - and his underwear - off, tossing it aside and finally revealing all of that skin and tight muscle to his wandering touches. 

 

Jesse had a charming laugh and a handsome smile, and Genji decided to make a point of eliciting both of them whenever and however he possibly could.

 

He landed on the bed with a creak of bed springs, already spread-eagle in what was clearly meant as an open invitation for Jesse to touch him. Jesse did, of course, and with such eagerness as he kissed Genji's throat and yanked away the last of his clothing. Genji laughed at this, the sound thrilled and breathless and quickly cut short when one of Jesse's hands brushed past Genji's cock. He gasped and jerked his hips, already desperate for more skin-on-skin contact, especially when his dick had spent most of their encounter so far confined in his jeans. 

 

" _ Oh, _ I like you," Genji hummed, grinning toothily as he peered up at Jesse and arched into every touch of his callused palms. "Which is why I will let you choose: How would you like me, Jesse? Do you want my  _ cock _ or my  _ ass _ ?"

 

Lewd though the question was, Genji looked utterly unabashed.

 

Genji had a nice cock. He had a nice ass, too, and Jesse wasn't sure which one he was more keen on in that moment. Rather than give a direct answer, then, he dipped down and got himself comfortable between Genji's spread thighs, occupying his mouth for a moment with sucking lingering bruises into the soft, unmarked skin along his ribs and down to his hipbones. It seemed a good a way as any to stall a little longer. 

 

Jesse braced his knees on the edge of the mattress, hooking both hands under Genji's ass to pull him forward until those firm thighs bracketed his shoulders and gave Jesse direct access to every intimate inch of the other man. 

 

Almost surprisingly, Genji's pubes were not, as Jesse had almost hoped, a bright green. Nevertheless, they were soft and well-groomed, and Jesse briefly rubbed his face down into the crook of Genji's crotch, nipping there as well. He was still half-dressed, which was an issue rectified some minutes later by thick fingers scrambling to shove his jeans and underwear down. 

 

"I think -" he was already panting, dick thick and heavy between his legs, "- think I'd like'ta return the favor first, before I make my decision." 

 

While it wasn't the answer Genji had expected, he was entirely willing to acquiesce. He was still grinning as he kicked off his jeans and hooked his ankles around Jesse's broad back, reveling in how exposed he was like this with his thighs spread and Jesse's fingers digging into the meat of his ass. Even better was the visual of Jesse between his thighs, his hair tousled and wild, his eyes dark and eager -- he would look  _ good _ with his mouth around Genji's cock. He would feel good, too. 

 

Yes, Genji was very much in favor of this.

 

"I would like that," he agreed, taking a fistful of Jesse's hair and giving him an encouraging little tug toward his dick. Genji's eyes never once left Jesse's face -- he would commit every moment of this to memory, if he could. Jesse was by far one of the more attractive men Genji had ever attracted to his bed, and that was saying something. "Perhaps I will let you have both. What do you think?"

 

Jesse grinned, shivering and pleased by the needy little tugs along his hair. Genji was eager and vocal, which was more than could be said for some of Jesse's previous partners. He liked it - a lot - and was more than happy to acquiesce to the sharp little yank. Unlike Genji, Jesse wasn't one to spent much time on teasing. His mouth closed around the length of Genji's dick, tongue dragging along the underside and teeth set briefly over the tip. Each pull of his throat was wet and messy, over-eager like Jesse hadn't had an opportunity to suck dick in  _ years  _ and he was aching for any chance to do so. He was always like that - a little too excitable - and that was proven by the way he eased off Genji's dick after a few lewd slurps, dropping a kiss to the red-flushed tip before nuzzling his way down and under the swell of Genji's balls. 

 

Maybe he should've asked, but Genji looked so pretty of a sight, spread out across the expensive sheets with his slick dick bobbing against his stomach, that Jesse didn't think twice about burying his nose into the crack of his ass. The flat of his tongue pressed unceremoniously against Genji's hole, lathing over it while large palms curled around lean thighs and held them spread wide, giving Jesse plenty of room to rub the bristles on his chin all over the sensitive skin of Genji's perineum and up to his sack. 

 

Genji had not slept with a great many partners who were as eager to lick his hole as they were to suck his cock, and so it came as a pleasant shock when Jesse nudged behind his balls. His response was immediate -- Genji loudly gasped, his hips arching up from the mattress and the hand in Jesse's hair twisting. Then he laughed, a series of breathless huffs that ended in a drawn-out hiss as Jesse's tongue prodded his perineum and his beard scratched Genji's inner thighs.

 

"I knew you would have a talented mouth." Genji sighed and squirmed his hips, trying to wordlessly direct Jesse's mouth to where he was most sensitive. The press of his nose behind Genji's balls earned him another pleased hiss; he had no qualms about being vocal about what he did and did not like. Communication was important, after all.

 

And besides, most of Genji's partners liked his receptiveness. He had a feeling Jesse would be no different.

 

Between the sounds and the not-so-subtle jerks of his hips, Genji managed to get Jesse exactly where he wanted, and Jesse was for one not about to complain. He lathed his tongue over Genji's balls, then back down between his ass cheeks, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin on his way to the pucker of Genji's hole. 

 

Jesse did have a talented mouth - more than just for pitching sales or talking circles around anyone he met. He made use of it now, jabbing his tongue into Genji's hole in quick, wet passes until it was loose enough for him to squirm inside. The tight, clenching heat of Genji's body did nothing to help him come to a decision how he wanted to start their afternoon off (for surely Genji did not bring him all the way here just for one quick fuck), but Jesse didn't spend much time focusing on the future, too caught up in the current moment to even care how things progressed. 

 

He smacked his lips lewdly and bit tooth-marks into the curve of Genji's ass, grunting when that earned his hair a rough pull and a groan from somewhere up above, then got back to what he was doing, one palm wrapped around Genji's dick and his tongue slicking over his crack. 

 

Genji was fairly certain he had never slept with anyone who ate as ass remarkably well as Jesse did, let alone someone who was so eager about it. It seemed as though Jesse was getting off on this, too, or at the very least was getting off on Genji's responses. He appeared to redouble his efforts whenever a particularly well-aimed thrust of his tongue or press of his teeth had Genji moaning. And he was so tireless, too, not once taking a break, not even to make some sly or dirty comment. Jesse's head stayed between Genji's thighs like it was his duty, like he was possessed by a single-minded determination to make Genji cum with only a tongue up his ass and a hand loosely wrapped around his cock. 

 

He probably would, too, if he kept going like this. Jesse's mouth was a gift, and Genji's dick was already leaking against his stomach despite that it had been barely touched. He had cum without direct stimulation to it before, but those instances were few and far in between; clearly, Jesse was just  _ that good. _

 

_ " _ Shit  _ shit shit,"  _ Genji swore in English, then in Japanese, then in some amalgamation of the two, jerking at Jesse's hair as the hot, wet tip of his tongue jabbed inside his hole and curled just-so. He rolled his shoulders against the mattress and tilted back his head, losing sight of the man between his thighs for a moment as he gasped and groaned toward the ceiling. It felt too good to make Jesse stop, and Genji had never really been one for denying himself. He could tell Jesse he was getting close and move on to other activities --  _ or _ , he could ride this out until he came, and play with his new favourite bed partner until he was ready for a round two. 

 

Genji hoped there would  _ be _ a round two -- and three, and four, and perhaps many more than that if he could convince Jesse to stay the night. He didn't think too far ahead, though, content to live in the moment, to think of nothing beyond how good it felt to have a tongue inside him and a beard scraping against his thighs. 

 

" _ So good,"  _ Genji sighed, peering down at Jesse again as he encouragingly stroked his fingers through his tousled hair. "You are so good at this, Jesse."

 

The praise went straight to his groin, made his cock twitch and leak pre onto the duvet. Jesse craved being  _ good _ , in whatever it was he did, be it upgrading a junker into something that could be sold at auction or eating ass like a pro. The latter he was currently, very happy, occupied with, smacking wetly each time he leaned away to take a breath before diving right back in. His tongue lathed over Genji's twitching hole, prodding inside at odd intervals just to feel the man under him jerk and twitch and whine for more. It did almost as much as the praise to hear Genji's noises, and Jesse loved that he was both loud and unabashed in his pleasure, arching up and rocking his hips and making a damn spectacle of himself. 

 

Jesse wanted to know what it was like were Genji to come from this alone. He didn't let up - figured he would get his due eventually, whether by that sinfully tight ass sinking down on his dick or some other means - re-doubling his efforts when Genji tugged his hair and told him that he was doing a stellar job. 

 

When he did take a breather it was never for too long. Jesse would pause, inhale; sometimes he would leave a hickey on the inside of Genji's thigh, claiming the spot for his own or sucking a fading mark into the soft skin before returning to his task with single-minded purpose. 

 

He blew cool air over Genji's hole, watching the pucker, pink and swollen from the scratch of his beard and the jab of his tongue, twitch in response, then closed his mouth back over it with a dirty moan, the sound rumbling through his chest and against the sensitive skin he took a moment to scrape his teeth over. 

 

It didn't take Genji long to cum, not with Jesse eating his ass out like he was starved for it, and not when Genji had wrapped a hand around his dick and was furiously jerking himself off in time to Jesse's eager tongue-fucking. He probably could have gotten off without touching himself, but Genji was impatient and Jesse's mouth felt too good  _ not  _ to indulge himself. He gasped and groaned as his hand went to work, the wet slap of his fist and the lewd smack of Jesse's lips just driving him that much closer, making him writhe and pant that much more desperately. 

 

" _ Iku,"  _ Genji rasped, realizing belatedly that Jesse wouldn't know what that word meant -- but he could probably  _ guess _ , by how Genji's hips were arching from the mattress, by the way his fist was pumping faster and faster as he worked himself off. Seconds later he was cumming, spilling across his fist and stomach in a few quick spurts, his toes curling behind Jesse's back as he moaned and pressed his ass into that clever tongue. Jesse kept lapping at him, and Genji was content to let him as he shuddered through the final aftershocks of his orgasm, at least until he became oversensitive and had to jerk away from Jesse's mouth.

 

"Damn," he said with a huff of laughter, petting Jesse's hair and flashing him a wide, toothy grin. "That was  _ perfect. _ "

 

_ Love _ , as they said, was a universal language. Jesse could feel Genji's oncoming orgasm with or without words. The press of sharp heels into his shoulders and the tug at his hair did nothing to discourage Jesse from riding this through to the end. If anything, he doubled his efforts, groaning something filthy against the wet furl of Genji's asshole. It twitched and spasmed around his tongue, clamping down on the squirming muscle as Genji finally shot off somewhere above him, coming hard and messy all over his stomach.

 

Jesse worked his jaw through the entirety of it, eating ass like it was the only thing he'd ever wanted, like if he wasn't the best, there was no reason for him to continue on with anything at all. 

 

That is, at least, until Genji nudged him off with a persistent push. Jesse's jaw ached and his mouth was a cherry-pink slash, rubbed swollen and covered in spit when he finally lifted his head up. He kissed the inside of Genji's thigh, bit a little bruise there, then continued pressing hickeys all the way up Genji's ribs to the sweet song of praise from the man himself. He was all but preening, pleased by the words and, more importantly, the way Genji said them - like he damn well meant every compliment that passed from his grinning mouth. 

 

"Mn." He was hard - painfully so, between the blowjob in the elevator and  _ now _ \- dick prodding persistently into Genji's thigh, but Jesse ignored it as best he could, preoccupied with his mouth at Genji's throat. "Glad you think so, darlin'."

 

Genji fully intended on repaying the favor to Jesse, but he was content to lie like this a little while longer, languishing in his post-orgasm high and humming contentedly as Jesse nibbled at his throat. He combed his fingers through Jesse's hair all the while, petting him like he was some overgrown mutt, working the tangles free and scratching at his scalp. He let out a huff of laughter as Jesse nosed behind his ear, finding a ticklish spot that Genji tried (and generally failed) to keep secret. Genji shoved him away eventually, not so much because of the tickling, but rather, because Jesse's dick was still insistently poking at his thigh. 

 

When Jesse had moved far enough back, Genji pushed him again, this time until he was splayed out on his back with his legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. Genji straddled him before he could try to sit up, placing an open palm against his sternum and smirking down at him with his head slightly cocked to one side and a playful glint in his eyes.

 

"Now," he began, sounding matter-of-fact, "I am going to suck you off. And you -- provided you have nowhere to be this afternoon -- are going to stay here, and we are going to fuck in my hot tub. How does that sound?"

 

It sounded like a dream, delightful and dirty and far too appealing for Jesse to offer anything clever in response. He laughed, just as content splayed out on his back as he was in any other configuration, then shifted slightly under Genji, hands settling on his thighs to keep him perched in place. "For you, darlin', I'm free as a bird." 

 

Especially if it involved fucking a hot tub. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Genji spoils his honored guest rotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.   
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

Genji made damn good on his promise of repayment; not fifteen minutes later, between clever hands and a cleverer mouth, Jesse was left splayed and spent and heaving for breath, orgasm wrenched expertly out of him and swallowed down by the green-haired man content to leave hickeys on the insides of his thighs. Jesse was content, too, though a touch oversensitive, and when Genji began to nose his way back towards his dick like he was planning something more, Jesse had to put a stop to it right quick. He threaded his fingers through the bright green locks of Genji's hair and tugged, harder when he met some resistance, until Genji was crawling up his body, over his chest and close enough to kiss again. 

 

Jesse did - quick and undeniably pleased - before letting him go. "You're a real treat, sweetheart." He was feeling particularly affectionate, enough to attach his mouth to a soft patch of Genji's skin, sucking a bruise into it with a hum. "Damn good is what you are, and you're offerin' me a soak in a hot tub, too? Must've done somethin' good in some past life." 

 

"Or perhaps you did something wicked, and I am a devil here to collect my dues"  Genji countered with a sly grin, still tasting Jesse's cum on his tongue but not minding it in the slightest. He indulged himself in a few more teasing kisses along Jesse's jaw and allowed him to reciprocate, sighing contentedly as he felt teeth and suction against his throat. It would be ringed with bruises, no doubt, and Genji looked forward to inspecting Jesse's handiwork in the mirror when next he found himself in front of one.

 

For now, he languished a little while longer on top of Jesse's bare chest before he rolled off of him, pressed one last kiss to his collarbone, and then stood up from the bed.

 

"Is it only tobacco you smoke?" he asked, sounding innocent enough despite the knowing glint in his eyes. Genji padded across the bedroom floor as he spoke, leaving Jesse naked and splayed out in the centre of his mattress as he briefly disappeared into a walk-in closet. When he reappeared, it was with two silk robes draped over his arm. One should fit Jesse, though it might be a bit tight around the chest -- all the better, really. Genji would enjoy the view. "I have other things, if you are interested, and plenty of alcohol behind the wet bar."

 

He would not be a very good host if he did not offer to indulge his guests' vices, after all, and Genji has a reputation to uphold. Still smirking, he tossed Jesse the  _ yukata _ so that it landed in his lap. "Oh, and here. No point in getting redressed."

 

Perhaps. Jesse wouldn't be caught dead complaining if he had to sell his soul to this particular devil, though. He enjoyed the kisses, the taste of his own cum on Genji's mouth, the weight sprawled across his hairy chest until it was all gone, leaving him with few precious moments to actually wrap his head around his situation. And, of course, take in the scenery. The bed was lavish - piled high with pillows and luxurious blankets and, despite the balls-hot weather outside, a fur throw, which he dragged his fingers through after hauling himself up to his elbows. His gaze followed Genji to the closet, lingering on the tight curve of his ass and the well-muscled contours of his arms, one of which was almost entirely taken up by a bright green dragon that Jesse hadn't noticed in the midst of their passionate flurry. 

 

"I smoke whatever you're offerin'," he drawled knowingly, realizing now that it wasn't _just_ the lingering scent of incense that had tickled his nose when he'd first set foot into the suite. "And I wouldn't say no to licking salt off ya, either, if you're hidin' some Patrón back there to go along with it." 

 

It was like one of those movies -  _ James Bond _ with his hair plastered to his forehead and sweat cooling tacky on his skin, the whole lean line of him spread lewdly across the bed with the breeze from the balcony offering little in the way of relief - except Jesse was no spy and Genji was no  _ femme  _ (though Jesse had a feeling that the green-haired beauty offering him a bathrobe could be very  _ fatale _ , if he weren't careful). He was just a lucky fella in a lucky place. 

 

He took the silky scrap of fabric and didn't bother tying it off in the front, draping it over his shoulders after standing. It hardly fit, straining over his chest and ending awkwardly somewhere just below his knees, but the robe was soft and smooth and Jesse couldn't help running his fingers over it, though those soon found their way to Genji's hips, instead, far more interested in  _ skin  _ than they were in silk. It was in this manner that Jesse followed Genji around the room, touching his thighs, his ass, the decadent dip of his hipbones and the small, dusky peaks of his nipples. From the wet bar to collect Patron and limes to the nightstand for a grinder and a little plastic baggy, Jesse continued to make himself a nuisance, kissing up the side of Genji's neck at every available opportunity. 

 

Jesse was  _ very _ affectionate, more so than even Genji was used to, but he was not at all opposed to the persistent distraction of those callused hands running over him every chance that they got. Not many of his lovers were this touch-starved after sex, and Genji might have been worried that he hadn't satisfied Jesse well enough if not for the fact that the taste of his cum was still lingering on his lips. Jesse just liked touching, apparently. Genji made no great efforts to shirk his attention, and when Jesse kissed his throat and grabbed his ass he let out a little trill of laughter and leaned into the touch. If his hands were not otherwise occupied carrying booze and weed, he would have touched Jesse right back. Instead, he continued leading the way through the penthouse and out onto the expansive, private veranda, where an infinity pool took up one half of the balcony and connected to the hot tub. There was a more impressive pool downstairs on one of the public floors, but as much as Genji loved the waterfall installation, he preferred the privacy here. Sex and drugs weren't so easily indulged in under the threat of prying eyes (although, Genji had certainly done so in the past, for the sheer thrill that the possibility of being caught gave him).

 

"Here we are," Genji waved one hand out toward the balcony, then craned his neck back to catch a kiss that had been intended for his cheek. He grinned toothily, his dark eyes warm but glinting with something mischievous. His silk yukata, already hanging from his shoulders, was shrugged off entirely as he crouched down beside the hot tub, where he set down the liquor and bag of weed and fiddled with a few of the in-built controls for the bubbles and the lights. Both started up with a  _ whirr _ and a quiet splash, and while Genji waited for Jesse to join him he plucked a pre-rolled joint out of the baggy and dipped his feet into the steamy salt-water. "Salt and mineral water. Good for the skin and the spirit."

 

Genji fished a lighter out from the bag and bit down on one end of the joint (it tasted sweet, like bubblegum) while cupped the other end and flicked on the lighter. Genji inhaled the smoke deeply and let out a few small puffs of white smoke through his lips as he slowly eased himself the rest of the way into the water. "We had it specially installed, Hanzo and I -- not that it is anything like the hot springs back in  _ Hanamura _ . Still, tell me what you think."

 

Genji had been  _ very  _ satisfying, and it was for that exact reason that Jesse was so affectionate in turn, rumbling out a pleased sound each time that Genji responded to his touches in some affirmative - be it by turning his head to catch a quick kiss or by leaning into the fingers eager to tweak his nipples. He let him go only when they stepped out onto the balcony, caught off-guard for a moment by the pool stretching out seemingly forever before them, attached to which was the aforementioned hot tub. 

 

Jesse whistled low and shrugged out of his own robe, draping it across a sun chair on his way to where Genji was already lighting up. The smell of the smoke hit him immediately, thick plumes of it spilling from Genji's parted lips (like a  _ dragon _ , Jesse thought with a grin) and dissipating into the air along with the pale steam coming off the water's surface. "It's real nice, darlin'." Nicer still for the company. Jesse slipped into the water, biting his lip against the initial blast of heat that sent the hair on his legs tingling, then sank down slowly, sitting on the little bench by Genji and, once he'd discovered their locations, sinking into the jets with a groan. They pounded at his back, persistently working out the knots of tension that plagued his lower back. 

 

" _ Damn _ , sweetheart." Jesse didn't think he'd ever felt so good fresh off an orgasm, though he could think of a few ways to feel even  _ better _ . For instance, next time that Genji took a deep drag from the blunt, Jesse waited all of a moment before leaning in, fingers catching the sharp point of his jaw and turning that pretty face his way. He caught Genji's lip between his teeth, inhaled the smoke as it tumbled out of Genji's mouth, then quick as lightning plucked the blunt from between Genji's fingers, easing away after a moment spent luxuriating in the taste of the man's mouth and the lingering flavor of bubblegum on his tongue. 

 

Cum, weed, bubblegum, and whatever other taste lingered on Jesse's tongue went surprisingly well together, and Genji was almost disappointed when Jesse pulled back after swallowing the smoke right from his mouth. He made a point of licking his lips as though savoring the flavor, then leaned in close, like he was going to shotgun off Jesse this time. Instead, with a subtle smirk, he reached around Jesse to grab the bottle of Patrón set down just behind him.

 

"We forgot to bring glasses," Genji voiced his realization aloud, trying to decide if it was worth it to haul himself out of the hot tub and back inside the suite just to find a couple of shot glasses. He arrived at his decision promptly, when Jesse started to exhale a cloud of smoke between them and Genji tucked himself closer to steal a kiss and a lungful of stale-tasting smoke. He breathed it out through his nostrils, then used a single hand to pop loose the cork on his bottle of tequila. While it wasn't exactly classy to drink straight from the bottle, it was more than half-empty, and he and Jesse had already exchanged more than just spit at this point. 

 

"I hope you do not mind sharing like this," he murmured, sounding almost coy if not for the impish quirk of his mouth as he brought the bottle to his lips and took one quick swig. It burned, especially without a lime and salt to chase the pungent flavor, but Genji barely cringed as he offered the bottle to Jesse in exchange for the joint. "Think you can finish the rest of it with me?"

 

Jesse laughed, head tossed back and handsome face twisted into a bright, carefree grin. "Glasses are the least of our concern, baby." Of all the things to worry about; Jesse couldn't remember the last time he'd consumed alcohol out of an appropriate glass, much less felt the need for one. No, the bottle would do them just fine. Bottle, salt, and the blunt now held loosely between his fingers while he blew out the very last of the smoke into the air between them, the taste of Genji's mouth lingering on his own and making him  _ tingle _ . 

 

They passed the alcohol and the blunt back and forth for a few minutes, taking turns at each and exchanging sweet smoke in between long sips of Patron. At one point, Genji ended up in his lap, straddling his thighs and grinding dirty up against him. 

 

Jesse groaned, mouth against Genji's throat and one hand curled around his thigh so that he could dig his fingers into the meat of the man's ass. "Y'taste  _ good _ , darlin'." As good as Patron and bubblegum, if not better for the way his skin held a certain hint of cologne, or  _ something _ , that Jesse couldn't quite place the origin of. He lapped and bit and sucked like that would help him discern the flavor, and when Genji trilled laughter into his ear switched his tactic to another spot, scraping his teeth over the tendons of Genji's throat. "Like sugar. Reckon I'd like'ta eat you up." 

 

"Oh, you already  _ did _ ," Genji replied with a snort, though clearly he was not complaining, at least not judging by the way he arched into Jesse's mouth and continued the slow, steady roll of his hips. He was a pleasant mix of buzzed, high, and horny, and Jesse was such a perfect outlet for the latter. Genji ran his hands up that well-defined chest, raking his fingers through the dark, curly hairs there, touching every available inch of Jesse like he was just as hungry to 'eat him up'.

 

A thought struck him, and all at once Genji was distracted, his fingers trailing aimlessly circles along Jesse's pecs and sternum as his hips finally stopped their relentless movement. Still straddling Jesse's lap, Genji peered out across the veranda in hopes of catching sight of his phone.

 

"Dammit," he mumbled, and with a long-suffering sigh Genji pressed a quick kiss to Jesse's brow and moved to leave the hot tub. "I left my phone in the bedroom." _ And the lube _ , Genji's distracted mind helpfully provided. Genji hoped he would remember to return with that, too. "Stay here and wait for me,  _ dar-ling _ ?"

 

Genji winked, pecked Jesse on the lips, and then stepped out of the steamy water and didn't even bother to fetch his robe or a towel as he padded off into the suite.

 

Thankfully, he was not gone for more than a minute, and had remembered to fetch both his cell phone and a bottle of water-based lube from his bedside table. Genji slipped back into the water as soon as he could, hissing at the heat, but readjusting to it quickly enough. He was also quick to return to his perch on Jesse's lap, pointedly showing him the lube before he set it down and then tapping on his phone. Genji turned around on Jesse's lap, then, back-to-chest, so that Jesse could peek over his shoulders -- and also so that he could grind his back against Jesse's fat, stiffening dick, relishing in the feel of it sliding along the crack of his ass. 

 

"Are you hungry?" Genji asked him, the question somehow sounding like a euphemism despite that he quite literally had just opened up the  _ UberEats _ app and was waving it in Jesse's face. "I always am, after I smoke. What should I order?"

 

The combination of warmth from the water and the weight of Genji's body was enough to make a man light-headed even without the added benefit of good tequila and better pot, but Jesse had all three and he might as well have won the lottery for how good he felt. His fingers trailed nonsense patterns over Genji's torso, tweaked his nipples and thumbed the edge of the tattoo where it spilled onto his chest; everything was unhurried and warm, like the thrum of alcohol through his veins and the slow puffs of smoke they shared until the blunt was nearly gone and Genji was hauling himself from the tub. 

 

Jesse considered following him, but the kiss and the request was enough to mollify him into staying in place, reclined against the jets with his head lolled back. He watched Genji pad across the veranda and into the other room, appreciating the view of the man's backside that he was so kindly given, then appreciated it more when Genji returned, eyes roving over the impressive cut of his torso and thighs and his slowly-filling cock. 

 

Genji was quick to situate himself in Jesse's lap once more, this time with the lean line of his back pressed to Jesse's front. Fucking tease. Genji rolled his hips and Jesse could do nothing but respond with a sharp buck, muffling a noise of pleasure against the smooth curve of his shoulder. 

 

"Hm?" The question had him faltering, thoughts gone in the direction of the lube bottle and the potential clench of Genji's ass, but food -  _ real  _ food, not the metaphorical kind that Genji offered in the form of sex - sounded good. Almost as good as another orgasm. Jesse wound his hands around Genji's middle, fingers toying with the soft tufts of hair under his navel while he thought and decided what he wanted to eat. "Mn... I could go for a burger right about now, darlin'. Somethin' nasty." 

 

Genji chuckled at the suggestion, both completely unsurprised that Jesse was craving a burger (was that not the classic American meal?), and that he seemed to be implying something  _ else _ besides the food. 

 

"Of course you want something  _ nasty _ ," he scoffed, though the way he was grinning back at Jesse made it clear that Genji was fully on board with aforementioned nastiness. He liked how irreverent Jesse was. Genji liked his playfulness, too, and his sexual appetite, and that he wanted something as non-pretentious as a  _ burger _ when so many of Genji's past lovers and 'business associates' favored lavish upscale meals and gourmet-everything. Genji had never shared the discerning tastes of his brother, or of the rest of the family. He would have eaten cheap ramen from the Rikimaru noodle shop every day of his life if he had been given the freedom to.

 

And, frankly, fast food sounded  _ perfect _ right about then. Pretty well anything greasy and cheap appealed to him,  especially when he was high.

 

"Shall we go with the American classic, then?" Genji asked with a teasing smile and an accompanying roll of his hips back into Jesse's stiffening cock. A round two while they waited on their food sounded wonderfully appealing right about now. In the meantime, he pulled up the order page for the nearest McDonald's and held up his phone screen for Jesse to get a better look at it. "I like their chicken. What about you? What would you like?"

 

" _ I'm  _ an American classic," Jesse saw pointed out, making himself laugh more than strictly necessary while he trailed a line of kisses up the side of Genji's throat. He'd eat anything if it was cheesy and loaded up with grease, honestly, and  _ gourmet _ -anything was the furthest thing from his mind when he had the finest meal he'd ever eaten sitting in his lap already. 

 

Genji seemed dead-set on ordering them some actual food, though, despite that Jesse was distracted first by a pale mole on the back of his neck, then by the way it tasted, then finally by the menu that Genji scrolled through on his phone. 

 

"A McDouble, maybe a Big Mac." McDonald's wasn't his fast food of choice unless he was exceptionally drunk and out way too late, but it all looked good at the moment and Jesse was left humming and hawing at the menu, unsure. "Could split one of those twenty McNugget orders, too. Dunno, sweetheart. I'd eat the whole damn cow right about now." Along with an order of large fries and maybe a milkshake. 

 

Genji laughed, the sound bright and melodic, and he leaned his head back against Jesse's shoulder so he could peer up at him with a wide, lopsided grin. He was feeling giggly and in particularly high spirits, though that was less an effect of the weed and tequila and more because Jesse's company put him in a pleasant mood. Truth be told, Genji did not have many friends here in America. His superfluous spending habits at the clubs and his propensity for seeking out one-night stands made it difficult to attract anyone with the sorts of qualities he might look for in a long-time companion, and while Genji did not terribly mind this, he really wouldn't mind having someone whose company he could appreciate even when he wasn't inebriated or horny (which was rare, but still).

 

Jesse, for his part, was the sort of man Genji could see himself befriending. He had a playful, easy-going nature, and he was charmingly bold. 

 

As an added bonus, he had a big dick and liked eating ass and cheap take-out. They would get along  _ beautifully _ .

 

"Or all of the above?" Genji suggested, glancing back at his phone's screen to add everything Jesse had listed to the cart. He was hungry enough that he would eat just about anything at that point, too, and he had plenty of money to spare that Genji had no compunctions about wasting food. He completed the order with another tap of his thumb, then set his phone aside on the edge of the hot tub and craned his neck up to kiss and nip at Jesse's scruffy jaw. "Mm, there. It should be here in thirty minutes or so." Genji purposely rolled his hips back, grinding against Jesse's dick. "What ever shall we do in the meantime?"

 

"Or all of the above," Jesse agreed, tipping his chin down to nip along Genji's neck and the line of his jaw. He was feeling more playful than usual despite that he made it a habit to be a little silly, but something about Genji had him skirting his fingers up the man's chest and cupping his chin in one broad palm so that he could duck down for a kiss proper and bite at Genji's mouth like he might really try to  _ eat him up _ . 

 

When he eased away and teased Genji's bottom lip between his teeth, it was only to come back a hot second later, to nuzzle his beard over hickeys he'd already left and down to the dragon that scaled Genji's shoulder. 

 

"I'm sure we'll be able to think of  _ something _ ." He still hasn't forgotten the lube where it sat on the edge of the tub, and with one hand free, Jesse reached for it now, plucking the bottle up and dangling it in front of Genji's nose. "Figure you brought this around with the intent to use it, huh?"

 

"Of course," Genji replied in a buttery purr that rivaled Jesse's own thick, honeyed voice. He was still wearing that same sly smile as before, though the way Jesse's beard tickled his throat and shoulder was enough to make him break out in giddy laughter. The lube bottle demonstratively held in front of his nose was snatched away before Jesse had a chance to blink, let alone jerk his hand away, and then Genji was moving off his lap and wading the short distance away to the opposite side of the tub. It was not with the intention of keeping any distance between them, though; Genji used his free hand to indicate that Jesse join him. He only wanted to flip their positions. 

 

"Can I fuck you first?" he suddenly asked, and the innocent way with which he posed the question made it sound as though Jesse would be doing him a great favor. Logistically, it would take a good deal more prep for Genji to take Jesse's dick than the other way around, and while there wasn't necessarily anything wrong with dragging out the foreplay a while longer, Genji wasn't feeling particularly patient at the moment. The alcohol and weed had him pleasantly buzzed but also restless and horny, and though he looked forward to feeling the whole thick, veiny girth of Jesse's dick inside him, Genji figured there would be plenty of time later in the evening to switch things up. 

 

"I figured it would be easier," Genji went on to elaborate, and with an impish glint in his eyes, he stretched his foot across the short distance between them and gently ground his heel against Jesse's balls and the turgid shaft of his dick. "That is, considering how  _ big  _ you are... What do you think?"

 

Jesse's laugh, which he'd barked out at the question and the subsequent explanation, was effectively silenced by the foot against his crotch, which teased the length of his dick and his sensitive balls in such a way that had him keening, sensitive and made more-so by the alcohol and drugs. 

 

" _ Baby _ , ya don't even need a good reason for me t'wanna  _ feel _ ya." All Genji woulda had to do was ask; Jesse was impossibly easy like that. In fact, he was easy enough that he made no bones about grinding shamelessly against the foot on his crotch,  _ big cock _ pressed hot against Genji's toes and leaking pre into the water, nor did he have any shame about catching Genji's ankle when the man started to pull away. He brought it out of the water and to his mouth, then kissed each toe, the sole, and even along the arch before finally letting go. 

 

"You can have me whatever way you'd like, sweetheart." In his lap or against the stone bench or bent over the edge of the sunken tub. Jesse didn't care - he wanted to feel Genji all over him again, with those clever fingers and sinful tongue - and so slid across to where the man had perched himself, settling with his knees on either side of Genji's thighs. "You got another blunt we could share, darlin'?"

 

The bristles of Jesse's beard were particularly ticklish against the sensitive sole of his foot, and Genji couldn't help but squirm as Jesse kissed him there, letting out a breathy, involuntary giggle as he lavished attention to each individual toe. His cock, already half-hard beneath the steamy water, twitched at each brush of Jesse's lips and scrape of his beard, and by the time Jesse crawled onto his lap, it was bobbing at full attention against his stomach. Jesse, as expected, was as easy-going about sex as he seemed to be about everything else, and Genji was seriously looking forward to getting his dick inside the hot clench of his ass. He didn't exactly care how. Jesse would look good riding him, but he also delighted in the thought of having him bent over the edge of the tub.

 

With the hand not currently popping open the bottle of lube, Genji reached for the bag of weed and fished out another pre-rolled joint. He didn't pass it to Jesse -- not directly -- but rather, prodded the filter at his lips until he bit down on it, and lit the other end a couple moments later. It was all in the interest of keeping Jesse's hands on him.

 

"You are so good to me, Jesse," Genji purred, still smirking toothily as he patted one of Jesse's bearded cheeks and loudly squirted a glob of lube into his fingers. He set the lube bottle aside for now as he reached behind Jesse to prod two slick fingers at the pucker of his ass. "So handsome and charming. So good at eating ass." At this, Genji's grin turned downright cheeky, like he was  _ trying _ to make Jesse blush with his praise. "I am going to spoil you tonight. Would you like that?"

 

Initially, Jesse had thought that Genji was dangerous due to his likely occupation and relationship to  _ Mr. Shimada _ . Now, however, he knew better. Genji was dangerous because of that smile - because of the wicked glint in his eye and the purr of his voice and those devilish fingers that fed him hand-rolled blunts. 

 

Genji was dangerous because he could convince a man to point a gun at his own head and shoot, and Jesse could already feel his finger on the trigger. 

 

He pulled it with a grin and a deep inhale, both hands on Genji's shoulders so that he could rock up and lift his dripping form out of the water just enough for those clever fingers to prod at his ass, sliding between his cheeks to pet first at the sensitive skin of his perineum, then at the furl of his hairy hole. 

 

"Feelin' plenty spoiled already, sweetheart," he rumbled, rocking his hips back like he was already impatient. He pried one hand from Genji's shoulder long enough to pluck the joint from between his teeth, bending double to reach Genji's mouth and kiss him deep. Smoke spilled between them when they parted, bubblegum and ass lingering in equal measure on his tongue. "But if you're really lookin' to rock my world, then I'm all for it." 

 

_ 'Rock your world' _ \-- that was an interesting turn of phrase, one that Genji made a mental note to remember. Jesse appeared to be full of colloquialisms that Genji had either never heard before or heard spoken only rarely. He liked it. He especially liked how frequently Jesse called him  _ sweetheart _ . It was a bit corny, to be honest, but for some reason that only added to Jesse's overall charm.

 

It helped that he was incredibly good-looking; he could, and probably  _ had,  _ gotten away with a great many things with that handsome face of his. In that sense, he and Genji shared a lot in common. Perhaps that was why they got along so well together -- they were two kindred spirits, the wily coyote and the clever fox. 

 

"Mm," Genji exhaled smoke from his nostrils as Jesse breathed it into his mouth, and slowly worked his lube-slick fingers into his ass, one at a time. Jesse took them easily enough, though in all fairness, Genji had relatively slim fingers. "You are going to feel so good around my cock,  _ ba-by. _ "

 

He mirrored Jesse's toothy grin with one of his own, licking his lips as he began to twist and curl his fingers in Jesse's tight ass.

 

Genji said ' _ baby _ ' like it amused him - like he was half mocking Jesse for his petnames and half endeared by them - but Jesse couldn't find it within himself to complain or be otherwise insulted. He laughed, interrupting himself with a gasp when Genji's fingers located and then prodded at his prostate. They  _ were  _ thin, as was Genji's dick, which prodded Jesse's thigh each time he rocked forward and then back onto the digits inside him, but neither of those facts made Jesse any less excited for the prospect of getting fucked. 

 

It'd been a while since he'd had anything but a modest bit of silicone inside him, anyway, and so he was tight around Genji's fingers, grunting and flexing when Genji added a third. He was still painfully hard, the head of his dick bobbing out of the water and drooling pre between them. Jesse tugged on it lazily between each indulgent roll of his hips, then took another hit, sharing it with Genji before discarding the blunt somewhere on the edge of the tub. It freed the hand not currently wrapped around his own dick, which continued to kick up water with each rough pull while the other tangled in Genji's hair, coaxing his head back. Jesse kissed him - first the bubblegum slash of his lips, then the palest smatter of stubble on his chin, then his throat and his collarbones and every bit of hickey-dotted skin, which he bit down on with a growl once he reached the junction between Genji's throat and shoulder. 

 

"Don't gotta be so  _ careful  _ with me, sweetheart." With three fingers and the wet squelch of lube, Jesse felt he was more than adequately prepared. "Ain't gonna break on ya." 

 

"Are you sure?" Genji didn't sound concerned, per se -- rather, there was a touch of smug amusement in the way he was smiling right then, like he knew something that Jesse did not. But really, he sounded  _ awfully _ confident for someone who had never slept with a Shimada before. Not that Genji had honestly expected Jesse to know any better. Genji had yet to build up half the reputation he had earned himself back in Hanamura, and while Jesse probably had some idea of the sort of illicit affairs he and Hanzo were involved with, he couldn't possibly guess the full extent of it. More besides, Genji was used to being underestimated by men who barely knew him. He looked physically fit, but he was neither burly nor particularly physically imposing. He certainly didn't look like the type of man who could break someone in half merely on a whim.

 

Though, honestly, it rarely happened that Genji fought anyone these days. He preferred drinking and fucking to fighting. There was no need to show off that side of himself to Jesse. He was, however, eager to show off just how deceptively strong he could be, if only for his own wicked amusement.

 

"All right," Genji drawled, slipping his fingers from Jesse's ass, his movements unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to get on with the fucking and saw it fit to take his time. Until, of course, Genji grabbed at Jesse's waist and in one swift, graceful movement, had their positions flipped so that Jesse was crowded up against the edge of the hot tub and Genji was pushed up behind him. He shoved at Jesse's back until he bent forward, and hooked one arm under his knee until Jesse set it on the stone bench and left his ass nicely spread. "If you want me to fuck you roughly, you only need to ask me. That is, if you think you can handle it."

 

He was goading Jesse, and that much was surely clear in the way he was smirking against the nape of his throat as he bit and kissed at the skin here. 

 

Though he made a conscious effort to never have expectations - high, low, or otherwise - Jesse was still nonetheless caught off-guard by their sudden shift in positions and the way Genji so easily flipped them, shoving him up against the edge of the tub so that he was forced to brace his elbows on the stone or risk face-planting into the floor. It was surprising, more-so because Jesse was  _ heavy  _ than because he didn't think Genji was strong. Add to that the extra several inches that Jesse had on the man now plastered to his back and for all intents and purposes they shouldn't of ended up in this configuration. 

 

Not that Jesse was  _ complaining _ , per se. 

 

He laughed breathlessly, shoving back against Genji's hips while struggling briefly to right himself, thighs spread and hands braced against the edge of the tub. 

 

"Ain't met a man I couldn't handle yet, sugar." Granted, he'd yet to fuck anyone quite like Genji. Lots of cocksure men, women, and otherwise had passed between his sheets, but few had the swagger to back up their big talk, and fewer still were as charming as the man whose dick rubbed teasingly over the rim of Jesse's hole. Jesse rocked back against it like he might get Genji inside of himself with a hard enough jerk, then reached with one hand to sweep his hair out of the way of sharp teeth and soft lips, which worried marks into his throat to match the same mottled mess that decorated Genji's torso and throat. "Fuck me like ya  _ mean  _ it, baby." 

 

The slow grind of Jesse's as against his cock was enticing to say the least, and Genji responded by biting down hard on the back of his shoulders and bared nape of his throat, muffling his groans against Jesse's bruises. His hands, meanwhile, left Jesse's thigh and hips long enough to liberally coat his cock with lube and rub the excess across Jesse's twitching hole until it was glistening and slick.  _ Rough  _ did not translate to  _ unprepared _ , at least in Genji's mind, and he was determined to make this feel as good for Jesse as it no doubt would for him.

 

"That was before you met me," he slyly remarked, peppering a few deceptively-sweet kisses along Jesse's bruised nape before, taking himself in hand, he guided the head of his dick against Jesse's well-lubed hole There was no need to take this part slow -- Genji was not nearly as well-endowed as Jesse, and clearly Jesse was more than capable of taking him. So, with one hand pressed between Jesse's shoulder blades to keep him pinned to the side of the tub, Genji fucked into him with a quick snap of his hips. The resounding  _ slap _ of wet skin on skin was satisfying to say the least, as was the hot, tight squeeze of Jesse's inner muscles around him. Genji groaned, low and pleased, and with a hand on Jesse's back and another now digging into his hip, he fucked into him again, not giving him a moment to adjust or catch his breath.  

 

" _ Fuck you like I mean it _ , hm?" Genji echoed between the rough hammering of his hips, his breath catching every time Jesse clenched around him, every time he snapped his hips forward and buried himself fully in that deliciously clenching ass. 

 

Genji sounded far too sure of himself and Jesse might've argued, or made some biting remark, were it not first for the cool drip of lube between his asscheeks and then the quick snap of Genji's hips, which sheathed his dick and had Jesse keening out a strangled moan. His shoulders dropped, body arching in response to the unexpected intrusion, but it felt too good - ache and all - for him to say anything when Genji repeated the action and shoved him down against the tiles. 

 

" _ Yes-s- _ " He couldn't get a word in, but it wasn't for lack of fucking trying. Genji seemed to understand him well enough, though, with every clench of Jesse's ass and the way he rocked back against the other man like he could get a little more, like he could  _ handle  _ it despite the way he nearly bit through his lip, worrying the skin between his teeth like he'd be able to choke back some of the more obnoxious sounds that threatened to spill into the air between them. 

 

It was a futile attempt, at any rate. Jesse hissed out a groan when Genji's dick prodded his prostate, and then whined louder when it happened again, and again, until Genji was fucking into him at just the right angle to have Jesse buckling from the overwhelming pleasure. He was lucky that he was on his knees, with knuckles gone white where they gripped the edge of the tub and his forehead pressed to the tile, because otherwise he doubted he'd be able to keep himself up in the face of those quick, brutal thrusts. 

 

Jesse felt so tight around Genji's cock that he almost worried that he was causing him discomfort --  _ almost,  _ but not quite, because the delighted moans pouring from his mouth made it clear that Jesse was enjoying himself. He was certainly not alone in that. Once Genji found the just-right combination of  _ hard  _ and  _ fast _ and pinpointed the exact angle to make Jesse groan and melt against the edge of the tub, he, too, felt like his orgasm was impending. His stamina was usually far more impressive; he blamed the weed, and the booze, and the way Jesse kept spasming and clenching around him with the most enticing of moans, his entire broad, muscular back flexing and tensing with each rough slap of Genji's hips. He looked incredible, the sort of man Genji might expect to see on the set of a professional porn shoot, or on the spread of a raunchy magazine. To have someone like  _ that _ , bent in front of him and all but keening for his dick, was more than enough to push Genji's stamina to its limits.

 

" _ So good, _ " he babbled in Japanese, not bothering to translate -- his words were fast becoming nonsense, and so many of his previous lovers had  _ liked _ hearing him groan and praise them in his native tongue. " _ You feel so good around my cock,  _ Jesse.  _ You take it so well. _ "

 

Genji moved to grip both of Jesse's hips in his hands, digging his nails in, leaving behind crescent-shape welts and faint purple bruises from how tightly he was grabbing hold of him. He fucked in rougher, deeper, until each thrust had Jesse's entire body jerking forward with the force of the movement.

 

"Is this hard enough for you?" Genji had the courtesy to ask in English, this time, his words leaving him on panted breaths.

 

It wouldn't be a far stretch to say that this -  _ this _ was the best Jesse'd ever had. Genji pounded into him like he had a point to prove, like if he didn't knock the breath out of Jesse's lungs with every quick jerk of his hips then it was a personal failing on his part. Jesse wasn't going to argue. 

 

Even if he wanted to, his mouth seemed permanently caught around a needy moan, incapable of forming words enough to voice his approval, though he managed a weak-sounding " _ Yes-s, _ " in response to the only thing he understood, the rest of whatever Genji said lost in translation and blurring into the background noise of wet slaps and the slosh of water. That was fine though because Genji didn't seem to be after any particular response. As long as Jesse gave voice to his pleasure - and he  _ did _ , loudly, every exhale a rough whine or a keening, needy moan - Genji was clearly happy to continue pounding into him. 

 

His dick leaked against his stomach, drooling pre into the water and, as the minutes wore on and the pressure in his lower gut grew unbearable, demanded Jesse slide one hand hand between his legs. Fingers curled around the length of it, thumb sweeping over the head in a practiced gesture before Jesse was jerking himself to the rhythm of Genji's hips, quick and rough and dirty. It wasn't long, then, until he was shooting off. He clenched around Genji with a choked moan, gripping his dick like a vice as the pressure crested and his vision went briefly iridescent. 

 

Genji was so focused on chasing his own orgasm and pounding more of those delectable, nonsensical moans from Jesse's lips that he almost didn't notice the hand furiously jerking at his cock or the way he was cumming just moments later. He had been so sure he would be the first to blow his load, that he'd be left to give Jesse a helpful reach-around right after (Genji wasn't  _ selfish _ , after all), and that that would be the end of it. Instead, it was Jesse who came first with a loud, dirty moan that had Genji groaning in turn and fucking into him harder. Then his ass was squeezing Genji's dick so tightly it was nearly overwhelming, those slick inner muscles milking an orgasm out of him before Genji could even think to try slowing down or dragging it out any longer. He came balls-deep in Jesse's ass, cussing and praising him in barely-coherent Japanese, still digging his nails into Jesse's hips to leave behind a pretty smattering of bruises against his tanned skin. When at last Genji felt he was no loner paralyzed by the incredible rush of his orgasm and Jesse's ass was no longer twitching around him to spend his cock of every last drop of cum, Genji pulled out with a shuddering sigh. He felt dizzy from the heat of the hot tub and the enthusiasm of their fucking, his body flushed and slick with sweat and his limbs feeling a bit like cooked noodles.

 

" _ Damn _ ," Genji puffed out a breath, hauling himself onto the edge of the tub so that only his legs were submerged in the steamy water. It was a good vantage point to appreciate the sight of Jesse's ass, red and bruised with a thin trickle of cum sliding down his thigh. Genji couldn't resist leaning forward and giving one cheek a light, playful slap, grinning lazily as he did. "I don't think I've ever fucked an ass as perfect as yours before. That was amazing."

 

It wasn't until Genji was cumming that Jesse realized they'd foregone a condom entirely. It took him all of a split second to realize he didn't give a damn either - probably wouldn't of cared even if Genji had offered one before they'd started. He was clean; Genji presumably was too. Either way, his cock gave a dirty twitch in the water at the feeling, and Jesse was left thoroughly debauched, bruised and aching with cum leaking from his well-used hole and down one thigh. He slumped forward, exhaling a weak laugh and the smack and the compliment. 

 

"Well ain't you a charmer?" He'd found his voice again, mouth pulled into a pleased, cat-with-the-cream grin. 

 

Thighs still spread wide showed off his puffy, abused hole and the swell of his balls, and Jesse, feeling cheeky and shameless, turned to pin Genji with a daring look. "You should take a picture if you're jus' gonna stare, sweepea. Can't pose for ya  _ all _ night." That wasn't necessarily true, but Jesse intended to get up to more trouble with Genji - trouble which involved him putting his hands and his mouth all over that tight, handsome body. 

 

That was perhaps one of the best suggestions Genji had heard so far tonight -- and, conveniently, his cellphone was already on hand. In his weed-induced haze he nearly forgot why it was there in the first place, and so it came as a pleasant reminder when he picked up his phone and saw the UberEats app open on his screen. Right,  _ food _ . Aside from getting his dick in Jesse, that had been one of his top priorities. Now he was going to have  _ both _ , and Genji could scarcely remember the last time he had felt so giddy. 

 

"Good idea," he said with a laugh, and didn't hesitate tap through his phone until he had the camera open. He took a quick snap of Jesse's bare ass, making sure to capture the cum still dribbling down one thigh, then took another zoomed in on the puffy, leaking rim of his hole. With that done, Genji grinned wide and pleased and leaned down to peck Jesse on the forehead.

 

"There,  _ perfect. _ Would you like to see?" Genji held out his phone for Jesse to look. He knew that he would be revisiting those photos again in the near future, for Jesse really did have an ass to rival most porn stars -- Genji would know, after all, considering that he had slept with one or two here in America. "I can take more if you want. Maybe of  _ both _ of us."

 

Jesse had been mostly joking, but frankly it wouldn't be the first - nor the last, he was sure - time that his ass ended up on someone's phone. Perhaps never in quite such an intimate manner, but Jesse wasn't concerned. He laughed, glancing at the pic on Genji's phone before slowly turning himself back over. The jets did wonders for his back - which would ache in the morning and remind him of anything he might forget between the drinking and the smoking - and the photo (the sight of Genji's cum dribbling out of his hole, at any rate) was enough to have a sweet pang of want drop down his spine. It was too soon to do anything, but Jesse shelved that feeling away for later and instead tugged Genji back into the tub, careful not to let him drop his phone. 

 

"As many as you want, darling." Genji looked so good in his lap that it would be a shame to not commemorate the moment, and with a mostly-dry hand Jesse plucked the phone away, holding it out with the camera flipped to face them. 

 

Several photographs later - grinning, biting, kissing and all - he finally handed the phone back, nipping at Genji's ear in the meantime while the man flipped back through and decided what else he wanted. "I'd offer to shoot a video with ya, baby, but I might have'ta start chargin' ya." 

 

Easy-going as he was, Genji didn't protest when Jesse stole his phone right out of his hands.Instead, he comfortably settled himself on Jesse's lap, lazily kissing at his jaw, and posing with his lips against Jesse's cheek and his eyes turned toward the camera when Jesse started snapping photos. He had something of a knack for looking good in pictures, and with Jesse taking them in quick succession Genji went all-out trying to get some particularly enticing shots in. There were no doubt a couple worthy of being shown off online -- perhaps even to be sent to Hanzo, just to pester him. Genji made a mental note to go through his gallery later.

 

For now, he was more interested in Jesse than he was on his phone. He set it aside once their impromptu photo session had come to an end, and decided to spend the last several minutes before their food arrived showering Jesse with attention.

 

"I am sure I could afford that," Genji said with a wink, still straddling Jesse's lap and leaning back against his hairy chest so that he could peer up at him. "But tonight I am spoiling  _ you,  _ not the other way around. So, tell me, what would you like to do with me after we eat?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for McCree  
> Tea wrote for Genji and Hanzo


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Hanzo returns, and breakfast is awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short and porn-free one here, folks. Next chapter should be a little spicier ;) 
> 
> As always:  
> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

As far as hangovers went, Jesse decided that this was not the worst he'd ever experienced. That was likely a result of the liquor going down smooth and the weed even smoother, but when he awoke the next morning it was less with a headache to contend with and more with a pleasant, all-over ache that left his bones creaking and his muscles tight. A good stretch took care of most of that, and a glance around reminded him of where he was and  _ who _ he was with.

 

Genji was still passed out, lounging among pillows and soft, downy blankets with one arm swung around Jesse's waist and his face tucked up against his shoulder. He looked sweet like that -  _ innocent _ , had Jesse not known exactly what that wicked mouth could do. 

 

The previous night had been spent in very high spirits. Jesse couldn't recall everything that had transpired, but by the state of bruises on his torso and takeout boxes strewn around the room (more than just the ones from McDonalds, which he remembered rather distinctly), he could presume that things had gone very well. 

 

After their  _ first _ dinner, where Jesse had all but inhaled his Big Mac and then split the order of chicken nuggets, they'd fucked again, this time over the kitchen counter with his ass on cold marble and Genji's surprising strength keeping him from toppling into the sink. He'd rewarded Genji for his superhuman efforts with another thorough ass-eating, head buried between warm thighs while Genji giggled and blew smoke in his general direction. They'd picked their way nude across the impressive living room, where Jesse had found that the backs of Genji's knees were absurdly sensitive, then towards one of the adjoining bedrooms, at which time the cellphone made another appearance. 

 

They'd had to have taken at least a hundred pictures (and two videos, no less: one of Jesse's breathless praise and the stretch of Genji's ass around his thick fingers and the other of that same tight ass taking every fat inch of Jesse's cock - ' _ like a goddamn champ, sweetheart _ ' heard reverently in the audio) in various configurations with various bodily fluids smeared into various body parts, then ordered more food from a Mexican place that Jesse positively  _ swore _ by. Another bottle of tequila had shown up, and the baggie of blunts had been emptied entirely.

 

All in all, a very successful way to spend an afternoon, evening, and night. 

 

Jesse carefully dislodged himself from Genji's loose hold and disappeared into the bathroom (which he also remembered, considering Genji had blown him against the tiled wall when they'd decided that a  _ rinse-off _ was supposedly necessary), hopping into that same shower for a quick wash. He swished some mouthwash between his teeth to get rid of the cotton, scrubbed cum and spit from his chest hair, then borrowed a towel at random to wrap around his waist, picking through the bedroom in search of something to slip on. 

 

Hanzo had returned to LA late the previous evening -- or early that morning, depending on one's perspective. Either way, it was to a quiet (thought certainly not empty) apartment, and if Hanzo had not been so jet-lagged from the flight and exhausted after his four-day trip abroad he might have noticed the tell-tale signs that Genji had a  _ guest _ staying the night. Instead, he retreated to his bedroom, extricated himself from his neatly-pressed three piece suit, and collapsed into a dreamless sleep.

 

It was nearly noon by the time he awoke, still feeling groggy enough to roll over and sleep for another few hours, but Hanzo was not so undisciplined. There were always matters to attend to, affairs to put in order, even when his schedule was technically cleared of any appointments. Unlike his ever-irresponsible younger brother, Hanzo saw this trip as it was: A  _ business  _ trip. They were not here to drink and party. They were here because Hanzo was the new  _ oyabun  _ of the Shimada family and so was burdened with the responsibility of ensuring the continued support of their American allies. And Genji--

 

Well, in theory, Genji's purpose for following along was to learn the rules of the trade. He was the heir apparent should Hanzo meet an early end, after all. Unfortunately, his interest in sex and partying had become nigh unmanageable since they had landed in America. He had been a troublemaker before, but it seemed that here, far from the influence of the family elders, there was no keeping Genji in line. Hanzo knew he would have to do something about his brother's foolishness soon. He was beginning to make a nuisance of himself, and his continued antics and indecorous behavior might sully the Shimada name. 

 

In the meantime, however, there was little that Hanzo could do but grudgingly put up with it. He was used to Genji's string of lovers. He was used to trudging into the kitchen in the early morning or late afternoon only to find some pretty thing (or multiple pretty things, on occasion) sitting at  _ his  _ kitchen table, drinking from  _ his  _ cups and leaving a mess in  _ his _ sink. Their presence bothered Hanzo to no end. He valued his privacy and the cleanliness of his space. He only tolerated Genji's continued presence because they had practically grown up side-by-side.

 

Genji, for his part, had taken to only rarely bringing over guests; when he did, it was typically on nights when he knew Hanzo would not be at the penthouse. It was because of this recent trend of conscientiousness that, when Hanzo swept into the kitchen wearing nothing but a thin cotton yukata (which hung off his shoulders and was only loosely tied around his waist), he expected to find it empty. It wasn't as though he hadn't explicitly informed Genji of his return date on at least several occasions before his departure.

 

Perhaps Hanzo should not have been surprised that Genji hadn't been listening, but it still took him off-guard when he sauntered into the room only to see the towering figure of a half-naked man standing in front of the stove. He stopped in the threshold, staring at the muscular expanse of the stranger's back and the wet tangle of his dark brown hair and wondering how this man was so strikingly familiar. And since when did Genji's guests make breakfast, much less breakfast that actually smelled appealing? They were usually the sort of privileged rich socialites who would rather order their meals than operate a stove.

 

The thought nagged at Hanzo perhaps more than it should have, but once the initial shock wore off, he began to feel annoyed rather than perplexed -- annoyed at his brother, mostly, but also annoyed at this stranger who apparently could not even be bothered to put on clothes. Was he not aware that Genji shared this apartment? 

 

Glowering at the stranger's back, Hanzo briefly contemplated stomping off to Genji's room and giving him an earful for his latest transgression, but something about this man was nagging at him. Perhaps Genji had invited him over before? If only Hanzo could get a good look at his face...

 

"Who are you?" He shattered the silence with his most commanding tone of voice -- the sort that tended to make people jump out of their skin, which was precisely what Hanzo aimed to do. He had no reason to be polite to an unwanted guest, as far as he was concerned. 

 

Jesse knew who Genji was related to. He'd also been informed - at some point yesterday before that fateful invitation to sit behind the wheel of the most impressive car that had ever grace his garage - that Hanzo Shimada would be returning, sooner rather than later. 

 

He had not, however, expected it to be  _ so _ soon, and when Genji had hauled him into the suite and kissed him silly and touched his dick, Jesse had forgotten about Mr. Shimada entirely. Mr. Shimada, with his regal voice and his cutting gaze and his propensity to linger while Jesse was working out the diagnostics on his car. Mr. Shimada, whom Jesse had seen smile exactly once, and whose mouth looked too pretty not to kiss. They'd spent a lot of time talking and even more in amicable silence while Mr. Shimada waited on a cab, and if Jesse wasn't damn sure that Mr. Shimada had little interest in sex and even less interest in him, he might've invited him out to dinner once or a hundred times. 

 

As it turned out, Jesse needn't have gone through so many hoops to see Mr. Shimada naked - or nearly so. One wild night with his brother was enough to secure a good eyeful, which was exactly what Jesse got when he jumped - startled - and twisted away from where he was frying up a stack of sweet-smelling French toast. 

 

"Mr. Shimada!" Well butter his ass and call him a biscuit - the man was just as tantalizing as ever, ruffled and sleepy and annoyed as he looked. Jesse tried not to let his gaze linger too long on the peek of a tattoo (like Genji's, impressive and serpentine) or on the hollow of Hanzo's throat, turning down the stove and grinning sheepishly like he'd been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. He had, metaphorically speaking. Sleeping with Hanzo's brother seemed like the kind of thing he might lose business over, but Jesse struck up conversation like it was normal to be found in a client's kitchen wearing nothing but a scrap of terrycloth. 

 

"Makin' some breakfast, if ya wanna wait around," he offered and didn't explain why he was there in the first place. Hanzo was no idiot and it wasn't difficult to figure out to begin with, between the bruises dotting his collar and his hairy chest and the various  _ accoutrements _ strewn on every available surface. "Coffee's on, too. Been a hot minute since I last saw ya; how've you been?"

 

It quickly became apparent why that back had been so familiar to him -- Hanzo had seen it before, on numerous occasions, bent over the hood of a polished sports car. He had seen that bare chest, too, hairy and with a thin sheen of sweat, always so absurdly  _ muscular _ for a man who apparently spent most of his days fixing up cars. Indeed, Hanzo had carefully honed his ability to stare long and hard at Jesse McCree without being noticed that he had practically memorized the sight of that sculpted chest and the way his ass always nicely filled out his blue jeans.

 

But seeing Jesse in the garage had been one thing; seeing him  _ here _ , fresh out of the shower and wearing only a towel, was something Hanzo had been woefully unprepared for. He gaped openly at the man now turned around to face him, the disgruntled expression sliding off his face to something better resembling surprise, and for a moment he was rendered frozen and mute. After the initial shock, it did not take long for Hanzo to process what it meant, that Jesse was here of all places. Genji had brought him home. He had probably received the call to pick up the McLaren and had decided to pick up their mechanic along with it.  _ Of course  _ he had -- this was exactly why Hanzo had adamantly refused to bring Genji to the garage with him. He knew his promiscuous brother would be interested. He knew that Jesse McCree liked men. It was for the sake of professionalism that Hanzo had elected to make certain that the two of them never met.

 

There was also the not-insignificant matter of his own more-than-professional interest in Jesse, though that was something Hanzo stubbornly refused to dwell upon. He did not mix business with pleasure, and he was here for  _ business  _ \-- nothing else, no matter how tempting his handsome mechanic was. 

 

Genji had no such compunctions; this came as no surprise, but even so the hickeys dotting Jesse's skin helped maintain Hanzo's shocked silence, had his mind unwillingly providing him with imagined mental images of what had transpired between Jesse and his brother last night. He did not usually care so much who Genji slept with, but  _ this _ ... This felt personal, however illogical Hanzo knew that sentiment was.

 

It was his anger, ultimately, that broke through Hanzo's frozen silence. His scowl returned, but it was not meant for Jesse -- not really. No, the majority of his anger was directed toward his irreverent  _ tart  _ of a little brother.

 

" _ Genji _ !" Hanzo roared, not even bothering to answer Jesse, not when his temper was boiling over his usual facade of calm. 

 

"I think he's still sleepin'," Jesse tried, wincing on Genji's behalf at the rage playing out over Hanzo's face. He hadn't expected  _ such _ a reaction. Sure, it was weird for your mechanic to sleep with your brother - but what was a little pleasure between business? It wasn't like getting some ass would suddenly change the way Jesse treated the McLaren, nor the way he interacted with his customers. 

 

"Mr. Shimada -" but Hanzo wasn't listening and from Genji's bedroom came the sounds of life. 

 

Jesse felt bad, like he'd done something  _ wrong _ (not that what he'd done the night before had been  _ advisable _ in any way) and he figured it was reasonable to take some personal responsibility in the situation. What could he say, though? That it had taken little more than a flutter of Genji's dark lashed and the dangle of keys in his face for him to be chomping at the bit for a chance to have both car and man? Maybe it was better for him to keep mum. Genji knew his brother far better than he did, anyway. He'd know how to handle the anger. 

 

At least, Jesse hoped he did, turning back to their breakfast when a little bit of smoke alerted him that it was overcooking. 

 

Jesse was effectively ignored,  for Hanzo did not think he could bear looking at him and his bruise-mottled chest anymore, much less carry on with any comfortable conversation. Instead, he turned around to storm out of the kitchen, ready to drag Genji out of bed by the ear if it came to it. 

 

As it turned out, he did not have to walk far. His brother was loitering in the hall, sporting a wild mess of bed-head and looking like he had woken up mere seconds ago. He flashed Hanzo a sleepy smile, fearless in the face of his brother's intimidating glare. 

 

"Good morning, Hanzo," he greeted too-sweetly, trying to peer past Hanzo into the kitchen. He spoke in English and much too loudly for this to be a conversation he intended to keep between himself and Hanzo. "It smells good in there. Is Jesse making us breakfast?"

 

" _ I told you not to bring anyone here when I am home,"  _ Hanzo snarled, switching to Japanese as he rounded on Genji, for he saw no reason that Jesse should be able to eavesdrop. " _ And you are not to bring home business partners." _

 

Genji rolled his eyes, but at least he had the sense not to reply in English. " _ He is our mechanic, not a business partner. _ "

 

" _ A mechanic with whom we do business,"  _ Hanzo shot back, moving closer as if with the intent of shoving Genji back into the wall. He was sorely tempted. They had sparred often during their squabbles when they were younger, and it had done well to work out some of their anger so that they could talk through things more sensibly. With Jesse in the other room, however, perhaps that was not the best idea. 

 

" _ Yeah, well,"  _ Genji shrugged, wielding that same lackadaisical attitude that he  _ knew _ pissed Hanzo off. " _ It was worth it. Have you looked at him? He is gorgeous."  _ He grinned toothily, and it was obvious by this point that he was trying to get Hanzo riled. " _ So is his cock." _

 

If Genji was looking to start a fight this early in the day, then he was most certainly about to get one with his smart-ass remarks. Hanzo bristled and swiped for his collar, but Genji had clearly been waiting for this; he dodged out of the way, a flash of green hair and the green of his yukata, and stopped a few feet away from Hanzo in the entrance to the kitchen. He had both hands held up in the air as a sign of surrender, though he was still  _ grinning,  _ and Hanzo was still furious.

 

" _ You ungrateful little prick--"  _

 

"So!" Genji piped up in English again, turning away from Hanzo to address the probably-confused man standing in their kitchen. "Is there enough food for all three of us? It smells delicious."

 

Jesse was pretending like he couldn't hear the conversation. Either way he couldn't  _ understand _ it, but the least he could do was be polite while Hanzo and Genji discussed... Whatever was going on. It was kind of odd, honestly. Despite that Jesse figured they were both part of some less-than-legal business, he didn't think that it was a huge deal who either one of them slept with. Genji was an adult, and he could conduct himself as he pleased - scandalous or otherwise. 

 

Maybe it was just his American sensibilities, though. Jesse couldn't fathom railing on a sibling for their choice of bed partner. 

 

He'd just flipped the last of the toast onto a plate already stacked high - sprinkled with cinnamon sugar and little pats of butter in between - when Genji made his grand appearance in the kitchen, looking far too pleased for a man getting chewed out by their brother. 

 

Jesse gestured to the stack, then to the coffee maker and a plate piled with banana and strawberry slices. "More than enough for both of ya. Figure I've overstayed my welcome, so I'll just -"

 

"Nonsense!" He was interrupted, first by Genji's cheery voice, then by a hand on his shoulder that steered him towards the small breakfast nook. Genji took the liberty of bringing the plates over, and looked far too appreciative for someone who was probably used to Michelin star dining, and Jesse was powerless to say 'no'. 

 

"Lemme go find my pants, at least."

 

' _ Yes, you have,'  _ Hanzo wanted to say, perhaps more bitterly than he had any right to be to a man who had done nothing to slight him, but Genji answered before he could. By the time Hanzo could even get a word in, Jesse was already being ushered to sit and Genji was setting down three plates at the table. 

 

He scowled at his brother with all the wordless disapproval he could muster -- which happened to be quite a lot -- and lingered in the doorway as though intending to continue leering at Genji for the duration of his meal. But that, Hanzo realized, would be petty, and for all that he hated that Jesse was here (and still barely dressed), he was disinclined to give the impression that he lacked civility. Jesse was, after all, a _business partner,_ and Hanzo had no designs of cutting ties with him if he could help it. Jesse was too good of a mechanic for that. 

 

Besides, Hanzo might  _ miss  _ their infrequent interactions, and the sight of Jesse shirtless and sweating and smiling at him so brightly that Hanzo almost believed Jesse was thrilled about seeing him as Hanzo secretly was. 

 

With some effort, Hanzo tried to rein in his anger and affect his usual air of cool professionalism. It was difficult, especially when Genji caught his eye as he turned around from the table and flashed him a cheeky thumbs-up. 

 

"I can go fetch you something," he assured Jesse, and before anyone could protest, Genji was already hurrying out of the kitchen. "You two start can eating without me."

 

He nudged Hanzo as he walked by, adding in muttered Japanese:  _ "I figured you might want some private time to 'talk business'." _

 

And then he was gone in  another flash of green, leaving Hanzo feeling both irritated and strangely flustered as he stood in the threshold. Only when he remembered his desire to keep  _ professional  _ did Hanzo deign to walk over to the table, where Jesse had already fixed him a plate of some sort of toast. He pursed his lips, silent for a moment as he considered his meal and pointedly refrained from glancing at Jesse for longer than a split second, then slowly seated himself at the table. 

 

He wasn't sure what to say; perhaps it would have been wiser to just leave the room rather than try and interact. This felt far too personal a space to be sharing with Jesse, and Hanzo couldn't simply ignore him as he usually did with his brother's guests. 

 

Eventually, quietly clearing his throat, Hanzo spoke. "You will have to excuse me. My brother can be...  _ trying,  _ at times."

 

"He's been nothin' but charmin'," Jesse was quick to assure, though maybe that too was the wrong thing to say. Regardless, he tried to play it cool - cool as he could with Hanzo sitting next to him in nothing but a bathrobe and a perplexed crease to his brow. 

 

"An' if it's any concern to ya, Mr. Shimada, this won't change our current arrangement at all." Maybe that was the problem - maybe Hanzo worried about how this would affect their business. Jesse scooped a heaping spoonful of fruit over his toast with a shrug of his wide shoulders, still feeling a niggling self-consciousness at being practically naked in the kitchen with a man he  _ hadn't _ slept with sat across from him. He'd thought that Genji would be the one to find him, honestly, that they'd have breakfast and sex and spend a morning working out their light hangover by means much more fun than simply sleeping in. 

 

Instead he was caught with his pants around his ankles and nothing to hide his shame but a small towel and a thick rug of chest hair. 

 

"Your vehicles are as safe in my hands as they've ever been. The McLaren rides like a  _ charm _ , by the way. Don't think I've ever met a car as pretty." He fixed up his toast how he liked it while he rambled, taking a bottle of syrup and upending it over his fruit and toast. It drizzled down, sickly-sweet, until the toast was practically drowned, leaving Jesse to swipe a finger along the rim of his plate before it could overflow. 

 

"I hope you don't mind I took her for a spin." Or at least if he  _ did _ , it would take his mind off the fact that Jesse had slept with his brother. Jesse stuck his syrup-sweet finger in his mouth, licking it clean, then grabbed a fork and knife, flashing a disarming smile Hanzo's way. "Try it, Mr. Shimada. Promise I ain't gonna poison ya. Papi didn't raise no son that couldn't cook his own food."

 

Jesse was either impervious to feeling of awkwardness and embarrassment or was simply doing a masterful job of not letting it show; either way, Hanzo was glad that Jesse was being his usual, chatty self and so did not leave the conversation-making to Hanzo. He was very good at making small-talk, especially not under the circumstances -- what with Jesse scantily clad in a towel and licking syrup off his fingers in such a way that Hanzo half-wondered if it was  _ intentional _ . He forced himself to look away, to keep his attention on the helping of toast (he was not sure of the word for it, but it  _ looked  _ like toast) rather than the handsome man currently seated across from him. As though self-conscious, he readjusted the collar of his yukata so that it better covered his chest and then ventured to take a bite of his breakfast -- without the syrup, of course, for Hanzo had never much liked how sweet it was. That had been one of Genji's purchases that Hanzo pointedly avoided whenever he opened the refrigerator.

 

"To be honest," Hanzo began, his voice quiet and his expression thoughtful as he finished chewing on his small bite of toast before continuing. It didn't taste half-bad, though it was a bit sweeter than he would have liked -- especially for breakfast. The mug of black coffee beside his plate, at least, helped to offset the sugar. "I am surprised you had not already taken it out for a spin. Secretly, of course."

 

It was easier to talk about the McLaren than it was to talk about Genji; Hanzo was trying not to think about Jesse's comment -- ' _ he's been nothing but charming'  _ \-- because he knew what that  _ really _ meant, and it was making his barely-contained temper simmer beneath his (relatively) calm exterior. It came as somewhat of a reassurance that Jesse, at least, felt that none of this would affect their business relationship. 

 

"What is this dish called?" Hanzo indicated his plate as he took another small bite; he was beginning to wonder if Jesse hadn't made them dessert instead of breakfast.

 

"Ah, Mr. Shimada, are ya tryin'ta insult me? I would  _ never _ ." He was an honest man in a dishonest business, and while he'd done some things that, in the eyes of the all-encompassing Authority would be considered  _ improper  _ (if not downright illegal), Jesse had never done his clientele wrong. He grinned to off-set any potential confusion his statement might of earned, for he wasn't actually upset by what he assumed to have been a teasing jibe at his obvious infatuation with the car, and finally dug in once Hanzo had taken his first bite, popping some syrup-drenched toast into his mouth along with a sliver of banana stacked on a slice of strawberry. It was perfect - sugary and buttery with a hint of tartness from the berry to keep his teeth from aching. 

 

"But I  _ have  _ been sorely tempted. She's a beaut, and your taste in cars is impeccable." Genji seemed to be taking his sweet time with the robe, and for a second Jesse wondered if the man somehow, inexplicably  _ knew  _ that, whenever Hanzo came by the garage, Jesse spent more time than strictly necessary watching and speaking with him. 

 

Probably not. Probably, Genji was looking to avoid an awkward situation while his brother simmered down, or looking to hide his weed and his empty bottles of tequila. Maybe he went to shower, or maybe he really had gone off in search of the same exact bath robe Jesse had worn the night before for a few, insignificant minutes. 

 

Either way, he was left alone with Hanzo and a pretty tasty breakfast, which he devoured far too quickly to be polite before turning to his coffee. 

 

"French toast. Dunno  _ why  _ it's called that, but I've always preferred it t'pancakes and y'all don't have a waffle iron." 

 

Hanzo had, in fact, heard of French toast before, though the name had escaped him. A few weeks into their arrival, Genji had dragged him to a popular American breakfast restaurant ( _ iHop, _ was it?) in the interest of introducing him to 'pancakes'. He had not been terribly fond of them. Unlike his younger brother, Hanzo was not keen on sweets and fast food.

 

He was polite enough not to share any of this with Jesse, knowing better than to insult the man who had made him breakfast -- be it as it may that Jesse had not really prepared breakfast with Hanzo in mind. After all, if Jesse had any inkling that Genji's older brother was home, he would have thought to put on some clothes.

 

Something about that thought annoyed Hanzo, something he quickly realized was foolish and petty. It bothered him more than he cared to acknowledge, that Genji had been the one to sleep with their mechanic, that he had seen Jesse without that ridiculously skimpy towel around his hips -- that he knew that Jesse's cock was  _ gorgeous _ . Aggravated and beginning to blush again, Hanzo stabbed at a morsel of French toast with more force than was necessary and scowled at his plate as though it had personally offended him.

 

"I see," he said simply,  _ tersely _ , in the sort of tone of voice that generally discouraged further conversation. But, after a few moments of bitter silence, Hanzo realized he was being needlessly hostile to a man who had done nothing wrong in particular, and so he willed his frown away and made another careful attempt at politeness. "Thank you -- for breakfast, and for your work on the McLaren. I can tell you take pride in your work."

 

"I make a special effort for gorgeous cars and  _ discerning _ clientele." It was a bad place and a bad time to try flirting, but Jesse couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut, nor was he able to resist the urge to glance across the table with another warm grin, a flash of crooked teeth and dimples that made him look devilishly charming. Maybe they'd be able to laugh about this, at some point, though Jesse'd never heard Hanzo so much as let loose a chuckle; he held out some vague hope that the man wouldn't terminate business with him over a bit of a moral indiscretion anyway, and that he might turn a blind eye when Jesse inevitably continued to be  _ morally indiscreet _ with his younger brother. 

 

For now, Jesse's main focus was on ignoring his vague discomfort - brought about by wearing little more than a towel - and on keeping the situation from getting too awkward while they both waited on Genji to return. 

 

"You've got a great place here, Mr. Shimada." That seemed like an innocent enough topic of conversation, so long as Jesse didn't focus too hard on how much of the suite his bare ass had already graced. "The hot tub, especially. Ain't ever been in one before. Genji was tellin' me 'bout the hot springs y'all got back home - you're from Japan, yeah? - and how they're even  _ better.  _ Frankly, I think he's lyin'ta me." His coffee, doctored with sugar and creamer, was what finally silenced him for a few moments during which Jesse took a contemplative sip, pleased by the flavor and the and the sweetness it left on his tongue. It was certainly a cut or few above what travelled through his own kitchen, at any rate. 

 

"Never been outside the country, unless ya count Mexico."

 

Hanzo tried not to dwell on what Jesse and his brother had probably been doing in the hot tub, but he couldn't quite battle down the surge of bitterness and displeasure that followed Jesse's more-or-less innocent remark. He stabbed at a morsel of French toast again, his fork  _ clacking _ against the ceramic plate, and struggled to keep his expression neutral.

 

"Yes, we are from Japan," he answered in as flat a tone of voice that he could muster, though Hanzo was sure there was a tell-tale hint of tension, and the way his eyebrows had knotted was noticeable despite his best efforts. He chose not to elaborate on the hot springs, though he might have if he wasn't in such a dour mood. "Mexico, hm? I have not yet been there, though I intend to visit. For business."

 

He sipped at his coffee again, reveling in the smoky, bitter taste that helped cleanse his palate of all the sweetness. He glanced only occasionally up at Jesse, though his gaze never lingered for long.

 

"What has kept you from travelling? Lack of interest?"

 

Hanzo was still pissed, which was damn obvious to a man like Jesse who'd spent much of his life learning to read expressions - if only for the sake of knowing when he was being lied to. He still wasn't sure  _ why _ , exactly. Surely Genji's promiscuousness wasn't such a huge point of contention, but he swallowed another sip of coffee and decided that it was probably his best course of action not to bring up the younger of the Shimada brothers for as long as he possibly could. 

 

"No time, mostly. I'd love'ta travel; always wanted to go abroad. But my little shop ain't got no one but me, and every penny I make goes right to overhead costs." For all that his clientele was generous with their tips, Jesse tried not to overcharge anyone that walked through his door, and what he didn't spend on buying expensive (sometimes illegal) replacement parts was spent on keeping the lights on and the AC running when the temperatures crept up to one-twenty in the middle of August. 

 

"Dunno what I'd do out there, either. Ain't too well-versed on how'ta be a tourist, and I ain't got no one'ta show me around, either. Think it'd be pretty, though. Excitin', to go somewhere and not know what to expect.  _ Romantic _ ." He took another drink, then, and toyed with the tines of his fork through the syrupy mess left over on his plate, propping an elbow on the edge of the table like if he crowded closer Hanzo might pay him a lick more attention. "Where else have ya been, besides here?"

 

"All over," Hanzo answered, and he realized it wasn't much of a reply, but he couldn't think of where to begin. He elaborated by listing off whatever first came to mind. "Across most of southern Europe, England, most of China and South Korea. I visited Colombia, once, but that is the only part of Latin America I have seen." 

 

When they chatted like this -- amicably, and without sight or word from  _ Genji  _ \-- it made it easier to forget the circumstances that had brought Jesse to Hanzo's kitchen in the first place. It was reminiscent of the many times they had carried on with idle conversation at the garage, which was not always strictly related to business, and was often peppered by Jesse's subtle flirtations that Hanzo made a point to disregard. He could not act upon them; he could not spare his time and energy to such frivolities when he had more important matters to focus on. Perhaps if Jesse did not  _ work _ for him...

 

But, even then, he knew his interest in Jesse could go no further than their near-weekly meetings in the garage, where Hanzo found reasons to take the McLaren and where the two of them found reasons to carry on talks about topics unrelated to cars. If only Genji hadn't stuck his nose (or  _ dick _ ) where it did not belong

 

Speaking of the devil.

 

"Sorry, it took me a while to find everything," Genji said in way of greeting as he sauntered back into the kitchen, wearing what was presumably yesterday's outfit and carrying an armful of flannel and jeans that clearly belonged to Jesse. He smiled as he approached the table, undeterred by the none-too-subtle glower Hanzo was throwing his way. 

 

Jesse listened, whistling high at the list of places Hanzo ticked off like it was nothing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been out of  _ town _ , much less out of the state or the country, for that matter. Hanzo's blase, disinterested tone only served to further point out the differences between them - in this case financial, as opposed to _ everything else _ . That hadn't stopped Jesse from flirting before, and he imagined it wouldn't stop him now, though he tried not to lay it on quite as thick when Genji padded back into the room. 

 

"It's fine." And it was; Jesse got a few uninterrupted minutes to try and diffuse the situation (however well he managed  _ that _ ) and the crease between Hanzo's brows wasn't quite as deep now as it had been just a little while before. 

 

"Let me just -" he reached for his clothes, standing and catching the towel with his free hand before it had a chance to dip further past the curve of his ass or flutter all the way off entirely. Hanzo probably wouldn't appreciate that, and Jesse was mostly eager to make himself presentable if only to chase away the lingering awkwardness of everything. 

 

He excused himself and disappeared down the hall, back to the bathroom where he could dress himself in peace and don the same, sweat-and-grease-stained ensemble he'd worn the night before. It stunk, but it was better than nothing but a towel, which he left on the edge of the tub and, after confirming that his phone and his apartment keys were both in his pockets, made his way back to where Hanzo glowered at Genji across the table. "Phone died," he explained, loitering at the door, "Think I can borrow yours? Gotta call a cab." 

 

Much to Genji's surprise, Hanzo kept mostly silent when they were left alone in the kitchen together, uttering only a single (albeit foreboding) couple words in muttered Japanese:  _ "We will talk" _ . He figured his brother was not yet done with chastising him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. After all, Genji had a pretty good idea as to  _ why _ Hanzo was so cantankerous this morning, and it certainly went beyond Genji's lack of so-called professionalism.

 

But that was something to dig into later; for now, Genji was content to shovel French toast into his mouth and ignore his brother's dirty looks until Jesse returned. He practically hopped out of his seat when Jesse reappeared and asked after a cab, his plate of breakfast already mostly-devoured. He swallowed his mouthful and swiped syrup from his lips as he sauntered away from the table, feeling Hanzo's sharp stare follow him all the while.

 

"There is no need for a cab. I can drive you wherever you need to go," Genji informed him. At te table, Hanzo suddenly set his mug down with more force than necessary.

 

_ "You will not _ ," he hissed, but Genji just dismissively flapped a hand in Hanzo's direction. Not like Jesse had understood that, anyway. 

 

Jesse wasn't sure it was the best idea for Genji to dismiss his brother's glower, but it was neither his job nor his place to try and protect the green-haired man from Hanzo's wrath. He shrugged, smoothing a hand over his shirt and still feeling more awkward than he had any reason to. "Whatever you're comfortable with, darlin'. Don't be feelin' obligated for my sake. And thank you, Mr. Shimada, for the chat. I'm lookin' forward to seein' ya again soon." Hopefully. Maybe. With that dark expression now leveled at him, Jesse wouldn't of been surprised to find that Hanzo never showed up again. 

 

He tipped an imaginary hat and followed Genji out of the kitchen and back towards the elevator where he'd received an excellent blowjob the night before. 

 

It was quiet until the doors hissed closed, then quieter still while the elevator started moving, and it was Jesse who broke that silence with the sharp bark of a relieved laugh. "Sorry, for causin' ya trouble with your brother." Except he wasn't that sorry - not really - cause they were standing too close and he did nothing about the way Genji kept inching  _ closer _ , either. 

 

"Thanks for havin' me, though. I'd ask if ya ever wanted t'do it again, but I think Mr. Shimada would kill us both." 

 

Thankfully, for all that Hanzo disapproved of Genji taking the McLaren, he made no great efforts to bar him from leaving the apartment. Genji had honestly expected some kind of fight, but soon enough he found himself standing in the elevator at Jesse's side and remembering only too well what they'd gotten up to in it the previous afternoon. He grinned at the memory, leaning back against the wall and none-too-subtly raking his eyes up and down Jesse's (unfortunately clothed) body.

 

"There is no need to apologize," Genji replied, still wearing that cat-that-got-the-cream smile despite knowing he was in for some sort of retribution when he returned to the penthouse. For now, he was glad for a bit more alone time with Jesse. "It was worth it. And it would be worth it again, I am sure."

 

The elevator doors opened and Genji waited until they had both stepped out into the car park before he abruptly spoke up again.

 

"So," he kept his tone of voice casual, brushing elbows with Jesse as he fell in step beside him and twirled his car keys around his index finger. "You two never fucked, did you?"

 

"You're a brave man, Genji." Not that Jesse would shirk a repeat performance, either. He was grinning and in higher spirits by the time they got to the garage, feeling some of the jitters shaken off now that he was no longer under Hanzo's obvious scrutiny. Hopefully, Hanzo wouldn't take whatever this was too personally. Genji clearly was no blushing virgin, and Jesse didn't intend to wed the man, after all. Hanzo had nothing to worry about if his concerns were rooted in money or scandals - Jesse had no need for either of those things. It was all a bit of harmless fun, and would be over as soon as one or both of them got bored. 

 

At the question, Jesse couldn't help but bark out a startled laugh, glancing at Genji from the corner of his eye like he wasn't sure if the man was joking or not. He didn't seem to be, but. 

 

"Nah. Don't think that man's interested in people on principle, much less lil old  _ me _ ," he finally said, raking his fingers through his hair with a shake of his head. "Not for lack of  _ tryin _ '. Mr. Shimada might be fierce, but if I could get him out to dinner don't think I wouldn't. Probably shot myself in the foot on that front, though, huh?" 

 

To his credit, Jesse seemed neither terribly thrown off by the question nor dishonest in his answer. Genji figured he might be at the very least cautious to say anything, perhaps because he worried he might offend Genji or stir jealousy. Genji was neither in wake of Jesse's response; if anything, it pleased him. He had an inkling that Jesse had some interest in his brother, be it merely sexual (and Genji could not blame him; he knew both he and his brother had inherited very good genes). His brother's interest was less obvious, and Genji would have to confirm it before he gave Jesse too much false hope.

 

"Hm. Maybe," he mused, considering whether or not he should say more than that, but as he clicked open the doors to the McLaren he couldn't quite seem to keep his mouth shut. "I think my brother is jealous."

 

"Jealous? Of you?" Hanzo Shimada could have anyone he damn well pleased at the drop of a hat, of this Jesse was sure, which meant that Genji was suggesting his brother was jealous of  _ him _ . The thought alone was laughable - what did Jesse have that could entice Mr. Shimada so - but now that it was laid out before him Jesse couldn't stop thinking about it. He hummed, thoughtful as he slid into the car and waited for Genji to join him. 

 

"I think you're fuckin' with me, sweetheart." Though if he  _ wasn't _ ... Jesse huffed another little laugh and shook his head. "Don't go gettin' my hopes up now, y'hear? Even if he was jealous, and even if he wanted'ta have dinner with me, I think I've all but ruined it. Ain't many men that'll share a fella with their brother, ya know?" 

 

Genji didn't want to get Jesse's hopes up, so he wouldn't -- not until he did a little more prying, which he wholeheartedly intended to once he returned to the apartment. He had a distinct feeling that he was right, that Hanzo really  _ did _ have an interest in Jesse. If so, it made sense that he had not acted upon it; even during their adolescence, Hanzo had kept his romantic and sexual entanglements to a bare minimum. His social isolation had worsened over the years, and now he had no real personal life outside of his work and family duties. It was utterly depressing, as far as Genji was concerned, and it could not possibly be good for his mental or spiritual health. For all that Hanzo complained that Genji partied too hard, he really ought to take a leaf from Genji's book and lighten up a little.

 

So, in all honesty, hearing that Jesse had even a passing interest in his brother -- a passing interest that Hanzo possibly reciprocated -- was exciting to him. He had never been the jealous type when it came to lovers. There was no need to be. 

 

"I am not fucking with you," Genji assured, still grinning, though there was nothing duplicitous about his expression. Rather, he looked to simply be in high spirits as he dropped into the driver's seat and waited for Jesse to buckle in beside him. "And anyway, Hanzo and I have shared a great many things over the years."

 

He would leave it to Jesse to discern what he meant by that, though despite his playful tone of voice, Genji was almost entirely serious.

 

It was more than a passing interest, if the hours they'd spent between all of Hanzo's visits were anything to go by. Jesse was a little smitten - but he was realistic in his expectations and preferred to leave his options open, especially when it came to wealthy men with big businesses and more important prospects. He still thought Genji was shitting him, a little bit, but at the same time there was a non-insignificant part of him still getting its hopes up. 

 

Jesse tried to quash it when he had no real confirmation, but Genji's next statement piqued his interest far more than it should have. 

 

He said nothing but spent the rest of the drive entertaining the possibilities of what Genji might've meant, casting him the occasional, curious glance out of the corner of his eye in between idle conversation. 

 

Upon their return to the garage - which looked the same as it had the previous afternoon - Jesse stole a kiss and left Genji his phone number and a promise for a repeat performance (sometime soon, hopefully), though he had to decline the offer for a quick fuck over his desk, tempting though it was. Then he was left alone with his thoughts and the weak spin of a fan, body sated and sore and covered in testaments to what all they'd gotten up to the night before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for McCree  
> Tea wrote for Genji and Hanzo


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's moonlighting gig might just be the death of one Hanzo Shimada.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

It did not occur to Hanzo, not until he had already been dragged out for an impromptu night on the town, that Genji had had any ulterior reasons for cracking open a bottle of Hanzo's favourite vintage and helpfully topping off his glass whenever it began to empty. In retrospect, he realized he had been a bit overeager in his drinking, though that was nothing new. Hanzo often over-imbibed when he was feeling stressed or in a particularly sour mood, and tonight he was both. He couldn't seem to keep his mind off Jesse McCree, off how he had looked that morning clad in nothing more than a too-small towel, off the way he had licked syrup off his fingers one by one as they sat together at breakfast. Likewise, Hanzo couldn't stop thinking about how Jesse had spent the night with his brother instead of  _ him -- _ as though Hanzo had any claim on the man. In truth, he had had no designs to sleep with Jesse. Genji hadn't exactly snatched Jesse out form under Hanzo's nose.

 

But it still bothered him to no end, and when Hanzo couldn't seem to stop entertaining the fantasy that he could have so easily had Jesse in his bed if he had only foregone his professionalism for one night, he turned to drinking. Genji happily supplied him. Eventually, Hanzo's bitterness turned to frustration, which was not at all helped by his brother -- what with that ridiculous but handsome photo of Jesse he decided to flaunt, and his insistence that Hanzo needed sex. He was probably not wrong. Hanzo had been without it for several months at least.

 

He was not entirely sure at what point he had agreed to join Genji for a night at the bar, or when that night at the bar had transformed into a night at a high-end strip club. All Hanzo knew, as he finally began to sober up from the wine, was that Genji had most certainly tricked him into this. 

 

At the moment, Genji was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared some minutes ago announcing that he was going to fetch them more drinks, though that was a dubious claim considering that they were currently seated in one of the VIP booths and had their own private bottle service. Hanzo was beginning to wonder if he had been ditched in favor of Genji's so-called 'friends'. Frankly, he did not care. At least it would mean that Hanzo could leave and find something more productive to do with his time. He had never been particularly fond of strip clubs, though he had been to quite a number of them in the interest of acquainting with business partners. The rich and the criminal (so often one in the same) had a penchance for these sorts of places, though admittedly Hanzo had never been to a gay strip club before, and he was perhaps a  _ little _ curious to catch a show before he left.

 

That was the only reason he stayed after Genji's inexplicable disappearance dragged on for more than ten minutes. Hanzo rapped his knuckles idly on the black, polished table before him, casting the occasional glance at his phone to check the time and watch for any texts from his brother. He realized he probably looked out of place, or perhaps like some desperately lonely foreign tycoon -- he was seated, alone, in one of the expensive VIP booths, dressed in a two-piece designer suit with a near-empty glass of wine set in front of him. At the same time, his unfriendly glower must have been enough to drive away anyone that might have otherwise been curious enough to approach. Perhaps that was why none of the scantily-clad waiters had come by to refill his drink. Perhaps that was why Genji had to go fetch their drinks himself, if that really was his reason for leaving. 

 

Either way, Hanzo had no intentions of lingering here much longer, not when the sight of a few barely-clothed men did nothing to either pique his interest or dispel his memories of how enticing Jesse had looked that morning in a towel. More annoying still, it wasn't as though there was anyone here Hanzo could take home for the night to get it out of his system. Genji should have just taken him to a bar, like he said he was going to.

 

There was a sudden rise in volume from the dance floor that caught Hanzo's attention; the central stage and catwalk were lighting up, and somewhere over the music and the cacophony of chatter and cheers, Hanzo could hear the next show being announced. He took a sip of his wine, curious enough to sit back and watch but unconvinced that he would find any of this particularly captivating. 

 

That was, until the dancer stepped onstage, and Hanzo's eyes snapped to that eerily familiar cowboy hat and then to that toned, hairy chest that he by now knew far too well. Shocked and confused though he was, there was no mistaking the man under the limelight as one  _ Jesse McCree. _

 

He'd dressed in his favorite getup for theme night - homemade Daisy Dukes that strained where they tried to stretch over the curve of his ass (unbuttoned and unzipped to reveal the front of a very bright red thong) and a pair of cowboy boots that jangled loudly with every step. Loud enough, in fact, to be heard over the thrum of music and the hollers from the crowd if one was sitting close to the stage. He'd dusted off his hat and a little jean vest which wouldn't grace his wide shoulders for long, and did up his eyes for that extra smokey look, ready some hour before he was expected on stage. The time spent between clocking in and his performance was usually spent working the floor - walking around and between tables and showing off the  _ assets  _ in case some wealthy businessman wanted to solicit him for a private performance after the show. 

 

Jesse had just propped himself up on an elbow at a table with a few rowdy boys, his ass hanging all out while he chatted up the jittery, excited-looking blond in the middle of the large group. Birthday celebrations were usually lucrative - especially when the birthday boy's friends pitched a few bucks each to try and solicit a performer's attention. But Jesse hardly got the chance to come around the side of the table, music thrumming and recently-turned twenty-two year old  _ Jamie  _ practically vibrating in between bursts of conversation and bright pink cheeks, that someone else stole his attention, tapping him on the shoulder. Jesse twisted around, catching a familiar shock of green and a toothy grin that demanded a wide smile in return. 

 

"Genji!" So he had made it, presumably with Hanzo somewhere in tow. Jesse didn't waste time looking for the older man - it was too dim in the club - and snagged another performer after an apology to the party waiting on him, shoving him towards the table with one last wink towards the birthday boy. 

 

"Well ain't you a sight for sore eyes?" 

 

"I ought to say the same thing about  _ you _ , Jesse." Genji trilled, sounding as always amused and a little mocking, and tugged Jesse's hat down over his eyes, leading him out of the throng of tables and to a quieter corner where they wouldn't have to raise their voices above the din. 

 

"Is Mr. Shimada -" 

 

"Please,  _ Hanzo _ to you, especially after tonight. He is here, drowning his anxieties in wine, I am sure." From his pocket, Genji fished out a wad of dollar bills that had Jesse's brows crawling up his forehead, surprise evident at the easy way with which Genji flashed his cash - hundred dollar bills, no less - and then proceeded to slip two of them right down the front of Jesse's Daisy Dukes, tucking them carefully into the string of red that dug into his hip. 

 

"For after. Come by our table." 

 

Jesse barked out a laugh, dick jumping where Genji's fingers lingered a little too long. At least he wouldn't have any problems filling out the already-strained fabric of his thong. "Y'know it hardly takes a twenty for a little special treatment, darlin'." 

 

" _ Well  _ -" Genji giggled, bright and uncomplicated, before withdrawing his hand. "We want a lot of ' _ special treatment _ '. I have rented a private room, too. I am sure my brother will enjoy your undivided attention." Jesse hoped so, too, and could do little more than nod dumbly while Genji winked at him and disappeared back into the crowd, undoubtedly to fetch some drinks and then return to Hanzo's side before the man got bored and left. 

 

It was another fifteen minutes or so that he made his rounds, the lights starting to dim on the hour. He was the opener that night - first on-stage to pump the crowd up for the ones that came after him - and as the music swelled and grew and switched from trashy pop to something with a heavy-hitting bass Jesse disappeared off the floor, arriving behind the curtain just as the announcer called him forward. 

 

He could only hope that Hanzo hadn't already left. The lights were blinding, initially, flooding the stage and showing off every well-oiled, hairy inch of his torso, which Jesse showed off with a bright smile as he stepped forward, boots clacking on the wood floor of the stage. He tipped his hat to the tables in the front - part of his cowboy shtick - and hooked his thumbs through the beltloops on his shorts, which already sagged low on his hips and showed off way too much to be coy. 

 

On stage there was a chair and few other props, but as the tune changed again, a little twangy, a little  _ western remix _ , Jesse took it by the back, twisting it so that the seat faced him and his profile faced the crowd, backlit and thick all over. 

 

There were all at once too many thoughts racing through Hanzo's mind to make sense of, though he noted that not a single one of them seemed to involve looking away -- or  _ leaving,  _ for that matter. He was simultaneously dumbstruck and captivated by the sight of Jesse McCree in too-tight denim shorts that barely contained his ass (much less the sizeable bulge of his cock), and however ridiculous and lewd the cowboy-inspired getup was, Hanzo found himself appreciating it immensely. 

 

His mouth felt unbearably dry the longer he stared, and without tearing his eyes away, Hanzo grabbed his glass of wine and downed the rest  of it in one eager gulp. He was going to need more alcohol if he was to sit through this -- and Hanzo _was,_ however ill-advised that decision, despite that he had come here with the intention of vanquishing Jesse from his mind, not cementing him there. Now he doubted he would be forgetting that toned, hairy chest and gorgeous ass anytime soon. _Damn him._ And damn _Genji,_ who had surely known about this and was probably trying to prove a point.

 

Late as always, Genji slipped across from him in the booth a few seconds after the music began playing, but well  before Hanzo had succeeded in picking his jaw up off the floor. 

 

" _ I am as shocked as you are _ ," he drawled, obviously lying, but Hanzo's mouth was still dry to counter this, and he was too fixated on sight of a provocatively dressed Jesse to so much as throw his brother a dirty look. " _ They were out of the vintage you like, so I bought-"  _

 

Hanzo didn't care; he could barely hear Genji over the din of the music and cheering, anyway. He snatched the bottle without looking and filled his wine glass generously before taking another long, desperate gulp. It burned like some sort of liquor -- vodka, knowing his brother. Hanzo grimaced and topped his glass off. He could swear he caught Jesse glancing their way, and suddenly he felt self-conscious and all the more eager to drink himself into a more relaxed stupor. 

 

" _ I am going to kick your ass," _ he hissed at his brother, but Genji either didn't hear him or didn't care, because Jesse was starting to move down the catwalk in their general direction and Genji seemed to think this an appropriate time to throw up a hand and let out an enthusiastic wolf-whistle -- as though he was  _ trying _ to draw attention to himself. Hanzo, conversely, flushed red and sank further in his seat as if with the intention of disappearing, taking another long swig of his drink. 

 

Genji Shimada was a master of drawing attention to himself, and it didn't take long of him waving and whistling for Jesse to catch sight of that bright green hair again, and to subsequently flash a smile towards the table. He saw Hanzo, too - made  _ eye contact _ , in fact - and tipped his hat down in an obvious display of acknowledgement. Then, and without further warning, he spread his legs, muscles of his thighs flexing and catching the reflection of the light. Both hands went to the back of the chair, ass up and out. Jesse ground his hips forward once, then repeated the action, throwing one hand in the air in the mimicry of bull riding. 

 

" _ Bet you would like to have that cowboy  _ **_ride you_ ** _ , huh? _ " Genji had already thought there was nothing America could offer him better than the lights of the strip clubs and the thrum of trashy pop music while bodies moved in a writhing, drug-laced mass, but apparently he'd been wrong. His brother's awestruck expression actually took the cake. 

 

Not that he wasn't affected by the display on stage. Jesse gyrated against the chair while the DJ's voice encouraged the crowd, some of whom had surged out of their chairs in an effort to get closer to the catwalk - and to being picked for the inevitable lap dance - then started his walk, boots jangling to the tune of dollar bills stuffed in his shorts. It was, frankly, obscene. Jesse used his not-inconsiderable strength to haul people up onto the stage, grinding against backsides and twirling people in the mockery of a two-step before letting go and continuing the slow trip from center stage towards, coincidentally, where Genji and his brother were sitting in a small private booth. 

 

_ "Stop being crass _ ," Hanzo snapped at his brother -- or, he tried to, but his tongue ceased functioning after he'd managed a strained ' _ stop' _ only to watch as Jesse began began provocatively thrusting his hips mid-dance. He was still mute by the time Jesse moved away from the chair and sauntered down the cat walk, picking audience members seemingly at random and pulling them onto the stage. He tried not to think about what it might be like to have Jesse drag him up and push him onto that chair, to be  _ ridden  _ as Genji had oh-so-eloquently put it. He would like that; in fact, he would like to do a great many things with (and  _ to _ ) Jesse McCree, and Hanzo's traitorous mind had fed him more steamy fantasies than he cared to admit. 

 

Now there would surely be no end to them.

 

Hanzo hadn't stopped refilling his glass for the entirety of the show. Absently, he noted that he was the only one really drinking. Genji seemed more interested in watching Jesse practically hump enthusiastic patrons and pointing out details to his brother (" _ he has the most incredible ass, brother"  _ and  _ "trust me, his dick really  _ **_is_ ** _ as big as those shorts make it look" _ ) while Hanzo helplessly swigged straight vodka. It was working, at least. By the time Jesse was nearly at their booth, Hanzo was red-faced from a combination of lust, embarrassment, and inebriation. He was drunk enough that the attention Jesse was now obviously beginning to pay him did not provoke any anxiety; rather, he was more focused on the hypnotic movements of Jesse's hips, on the supple curve of his ass and thick muscles of his thighs as he danced his way closer and closer.

 

He was reaching for the bottle again by the time Jesse was in front of their table. Hanzo's hand clenched tight around the neck of the bottle, as if it somehow had a direct link to his cock and by squeezing it he might quell the frisson of  _ want  _ coiling tight in his stomach.

 

It was a slow crawl to the Shimada's table between the hands grabbing for him and the slow gyration of his hips, but Jesse made it after a few more dance moves and even more pauses for some _ audience participation _ , which largely involved people pawing at the front of his shorts (which was  _ technically  _ not allowed, but Jesse made exceptions to most rules, and it wasn't like his manager was watching, anyway) and stuffing dollar bills wherever they conveniently could, including, notably, when Jesse dropped to hands and knees - ass deliberately towards the small private booth and thighs spread wide - and accepted dollars between his teeth, catching a few in his mouth for show before rolling smoothly back up to his feet. He fished them out of his mouth, waved them at the crowd, and with a wink stuffed them into his shorts. 

 

Genji whistled at the show and topped Hanzo's glass off for him, whooping and hollering like the rabble crowding around the catwalk. " _ Maybe he will show you what else he can do with that mouth, Hanzo! _ " 

 

Before Hanzo could make some scandalized response, however, Jesse was at their table, hands planted flat on the reflective surface as he bent over and showed the backs of his thighs off to the crowd behind them. 

 

"Well  _ howdy _ , stranger." His position put him close enough to see the pink that flushed Hanzo's cheeks, the way it darkened the longer they watched each other until Jesse was hauling himself up onto the table, hat off and dropped unceremoniously on Hanzo's head. 

 

"Lil birdy told me that  _ you  _ here got a birthday comin' up." Without a mic, he had to shout to be heard over the dull roar, but Jesse was plenty loud, and he was close enough that Hanzo could hear him, at least. He was kneeling effectively crotch-to-face, hips still swaying to the music while he shrugged out of his little vest and spun it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind himself. It thumped onto the catwalk, but Jesse only had eyes for the mortified man sat in front of him. 

 

He showed off unabashedly, flexing his biceps and leaning into the light that washed over him and highlighted every tantalizing curve and patch of glistening sweat, then reached down and tugged teasingly at his hat, winking over at Genji in the same moment. "How 'bout we give ya a real  _ proper _ celebration, huh?" 

 

There were far too many people looking Hanzo's way, and although he knew that the majority of them had their eyes fixed on Jesse as he crawled onto the table and flashily stripped off his vest, Hanzo could still feel several curious gazes being thrown his way. He was drunk, but not drunk enough that the attention didn't leave him feeling self-conscious, and certainly not drunk enough to affect stoicism when Jesse plopped his ridiculous cowboy hat on top of Hanzo's head and shuffled closer to him until the impressive bulge of his cock was just several tantalizing inches away from Hanzo's face. He swallowed thickly and set down his empty glass, which left Hanzo's hands uncomfortably empty and exceedingly tempted to steal a touch. 

 

Hanzo didn't -- mostly because touching was generally frowned upon in institutions such as this, and also because he was afraid that if he gave in to that temptation he would be unable to resist giving in to all the others. And there were  _ many,  _ where Jesse was concerned; right now, for example, Hanzo was grappling with the urge to lean in and lap away a bead of sweat that dripped down Jesse's throat and over the swell of his Adam's apple. Hanzo licked his lips without thinking, tasting a mixture of vodka and wine. He wondered what  _ Jesse  _ would taste like... 

 

Hanzo curled his hand into a fist where it was now rested on his thigh. He could feel himself growing hard, his traitorous dick twitching at the smell of cologne and sweat and hint of musk that assailed his nose with Jesse crowded so shamelessly close. He wasn't sure if he was expected to answer the question, whether he could even possibly make himself heard over the cheering crowd and roar of blood past his ears, but the alcohol had loosened Hanzo's tongue, and he felt silence would be more uncomfortable than simply speaking. 

 

The trouble was, Hanzo had no idea what to say, and with his mouth still cotton-dry and his head spinning, he could think only of how foolish he must look to the rest of the crowded bar. So it was that the first words that made it to his tongue, uttered only loud enough for Jesse to hear, were: "Not with everyone  _ watching _ ."

 

Genji hadn't been kidding about his brother being uptight. Even with half a decanter of vodka gone (plus whatever Hanzo had been drinking beforehand) the man still looked uncomfortable, though it seemed to be more as the result of the crowd behind them than because Jesse was sweaty and near-naked and grinding his crotch in his face. Still, despite the grimace tugging at his mouth, Hanzo couldn't seem to tear his gaze away, and Jesse for one took a few seconds to bask in the attention, hooking his fingers under the waistband of his thong and letting it snap back against his hip. 

 

"Ya don't wanna make all these folks here jealous, darlin'?" He laughed, sliding a few inches forward until he slid right off the table and dropped conveniently into Hanzo's lap, straddling him without  _ quite _ touching.

 

"Tell ya  _ what _ , partner. How's about ya keep that hat for now, and after I do my little number I'll find ya and give ya somethin' nice for your birthday?" With that, he rocked his hips forward just once - just enough to press his crotch to Hanzo's - then slid off with a wink and an air kiss, sauntering back towards the catwalk and the eagerly waiting crowd. 

 

Hanzo certainly did not care about making anyone jealous -- if anything, a pettier part of him reveled in the possibility of exercising some sort of  _ claim  _ over Jesse McCree, especially now, with everyone hungrily staring at the enticing swell of his ass and the glistening expanse of his muscular back. His fingers twitched even as Hanzo kept them carefully clenched into fists, but he resisted the urge to catch a bead of sweat with his thumb, and bit his tongue before he could say anything foolish. It was a good thing, too, as the teeth digging into the tip of his tongue kept quiet a would-be gasp when Jesse abruptly landed above Hanzo's lap. He gave one tantalizing thrust of his hips (just enough for Hanzo to  _ feel _ the hard bulge of his dick against his own) before he was mercifully sliding away. Hanzo released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and watched mutely as Jesse climbed back onto the catwalk. He realized belatedly that Jesse had left his hat, and it took a few solid seconds before his words fully sunk in.

 

Genji's low, approving whistle knocked Hanzo out of his dazed staring, reminding him that his brother had been watching that entire exchange. 

 

" _ It looks like the cowboy is picking favourites,"  _ he teased, 'helpfully' pouring a splash of vodka in Hanzo's glass. Hanzo took it more forcibly than needed, glowering at Genji from across the table. He was not sure what his brother intended to achieve with this -- for surely he had orchestrated the entire thing -- but Hanzo felt his embarrassment rested squarely on Genji's shoulders. " _ You must feel special, brother." _

 

Hanzo's face was still burning as he threw back another swig of vodka and tried not to pay too much attention to the man still gyrating his hips on-stage. He felt he needed a moment to cool off and relax himself, especially now with the promise of a private show looming in his mind. 

 

" _ You are trying to make a fool of me, _ " Hanzo accused, jabbing his finger in his brother's direction and slamming his empty wine glass down on the table. The crowd was cheering loudly again, and Hanzo was afraid to look and see for himself what Jesse was doing onstage. Even so, his face flushed a deeper shade of red.

 

" _ I would not expend nearly so much effort to make a fool of you when you yourself do it so beautifully _ ." Genji had no problems watching Jesse's descent from their table and back onto the stage, where the spotlights washed over his body and painted him in stark shades of neon blue and bright white. The man knew how to throw that bulk around, swinging and swaying and periodically dropping into a clean squat that made even Genji's cheeks a little rosy, though that had probably more to do with the fair share of vodka he'd siphoned from the decanter than any sort of embarrassment by the delicious show in front of him. Propriety had always been more Hanzo's thing, anyway. 

 

Jesse spent a half hour and a few minutes more ( _ generous  _ with his time as he often was) moving and shaking and grinding up on patrons while dollars were stuffed into his pockets and down the front of his thong and hands grabbed for whatever they could reasonably reach. He collected the bills as he could, tucking them into the garter around his arm for safekeeping, because by the time he returned to center stage, his shorts were missing, too. 

 

He was left with nothing but a thin scrap of red which left about as much to the imagination as it would have had he been fully nude, showing off girth of his dick and the cheeks of his ass, both of which he flaunted gratuitously to the enjoyment of the crowd before finishing his set. 

 

It wasn't long before another guy came on, though, so the crowd wasn't left wanting for long and Jesse was free to slip away in search of the night's lucky patrons. The Shimada brothers were still at the same table, though with significantly less vodka between them and an overall looser atmosphere. 

 

Jesse slipped in behind Hanzo and snatched his hat back with a laugh. He was still dressed in next-to-nothing, though he still looked charming with a smile on his face and dimples tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Evenin', fellas. If you would follow me to one of our private rooms, we can get ya  _ all  _ set up for the night." 

 

However much Hanzo wanted to continue raging at his brother, his anger quickly lost its momentum as inebriation and lust rose to the fore. It was difficult to remain petulant when Jesse's ass continued to tease and distract him even when Hanzo forced himself to look away, and by the time Jesse had finished his routine and another man took his place on stage, Hanzo was feeling drunk and restless but not particularly annoyed with Genji. That would come later, he was sure, when he had sobered up enough to remember why he was furious. For now, all he could think was how  _ fortunate _ it was that Genji had brought him here to see Jesse dance around in a barely-there red thong that clung so deliciously tight to his cock.

 

He did wonder what Genji's intentions were, even in his drunken haze. Was he looking to humiliate Hanzo? Was he simply flaunting last night's lover? He had (correctly) assumed that Hanzo had a secret interest in Jesse -- was that what this was about? Perhaps, then, Genji thought he was doing his older brother a  _ favour _ . 

 

Whatever the case, Hanzo was more preoccupied with what  _ Jesse  _ was planning to do to 'treat him'. The anticipation ate away at him, especially when Jesse disappeared off the stage and somewhere into the dimly-lit crowd. Hanzo allowed Genji to pour him another drink, and tossed it back with the same practiced ease as he had downed all the others. No sooner had he set down his glass was Jesse leaning in behind him and snatching back his hat. When the deep, buttery drawl of his voice mentioned  _ private room,  _ Hanzo felt his cock give an immediate, interested twitch. 

 

"Come on,  _ brother _ ," Genji was urging him, and only then did Hanzo realize he must have been staring again. " _ Your mouth is going to start gathering dust if you keep gaping like that. _ "

 

Hanzo could not find it in himself to reply to his brother's needling; he simply threw Genji a look as he stood. The movement was too abrupt, he realized, for he had downed more vodka than what was perhaps advisable in such a short span of time, and it took Hanzo a moment to find his balance again before he could follow after Jesse with any semblance of grace. It was a testament to his drunkenness that Hanzo followed without question or even some amount of hesitation. He probably  _ shouldn't;  _ it was unprofessional, it was exactly the reason he had spurned Jesse's advances in the first place. And yet, there was no stopping himself once he started walking, almost as though his feet had a mind of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for McCree and Genji   
> Tea wrote for Genji and Hanzo


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo gets a little more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the rest, but it wraps up this little adventure pretty nicely, we think e u e
> 
> \----------------  
> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

Jesse was glad that Hanzo didn't put up a fuss about the private performance. It was probably, mostly, a testament to the drinks Genji had spent half the evening pouring him more than his own desire to further compromise his scruples. But the green-haired Shimada had been right - his brother needed to loosen the hell up, and who better to help him with that than someone he'd built some kind of rapport with? Safer than being with a stranger and certainly less likely to result in a scandal. 

 

Hanzo stumbled when he stood, and even as he moved to right himself, Jesse slipped in beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist despite that it could earn him an elbow in the gut. When it didn't - when Hanzo leaned  _ into  _ him, no less - Jesse considered it a personal victory. He threw a wink over his shoulder to where Genji loitered, still at the table, and tipped his head towards the back of the room, where there was a short hallway that led to a few of their private rooms. Genji had paid more than enough to have both of them there, and it wasn't like Jesse to complain about multiple handsome men watching him dance. 

 

"If I'd known ya liked these sorts'a  _ pleasures _ , I might'a invited ya out sooner,  _ Mr. Shimada _ ," he drawled, flicking his hat up so that it sat high on his head and gave him room to maneuver his mouth close to Hanzo's ear, murmuring hotly against the shell. He didn't bite - wouldn't  _ dare  _ with eyes on them - but it was a close thing, teeth grazing over soft skin before he leaned away and steered them towards an empty private room. 

 

It was small, with a couch and some chairs and the same music that was outside currently thrumming through the speakers. The lights were dim, save for a spotlight which illuminated center stage, where a raised platform sporting a stripper pole stood waiting as though anticipating the next set of guests and performers.

 

"Have a seat," Jesse offered, finally letting go of Hanzo's hip (and  _ what  _ a hip). "If you need a refill on your drinks, there is a button on the table and someone will be happy to deliver. Now, there are a  _ few  _ rules." Standard protocol, though Jesse couldn't quite decide if he cared enough to tick them off when Hanzo was already perched on a chair, drunk and chewing on his lip like he'd say something regretful if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied (Jesse could think of many ways to occupy it that were  _ far  _ more enjoyable for everyone involved). Still, he had to keep things somewhat professional even as he hopped up on stage, spurs jangling and grin wide. "Hands-off only. I can touch you, but ya can't touch me, darlin'. Exception is if ya wanna leave a tip. Either the table or -" he slipped a thumb under the waistband of his thong snapping it back against his thigh, then wrapped a hand around the pole, twirling around it once like he was warming up. "- right in  _ there _ , baby. We got a deal?" 

 

Hanzo wanted to deny that remark, to inform Jesse that these  _ were not _ , in fact, the 'sorts of pleasures' he liked, but the words escaped him when Jesse's mouth breathed hot against his ear. Then came those  _ teeth,  _ scraping along the sensitive shell of his ear as if threatening to sink in, and Hanzo felt unbearably desperate for the bite that never followed. He shuddered as Jesse pulled away, the ghost of his breath still tickling Hanzo's throat and running like a live wire to his dick, which was by now half hard in his nearly too-tight dress pants.

 

He was thus relieved (and also a bit disappointed) when they stepped into the backroom and Jesse finally moved away from him, the warm press of his hand and the bare side of his chest no longer a constant distraction. It was a short enough walk to a seat that Hanzo managed to make it there without stumbling, and by the time he had settled in he began to wonder why he had agreed to come here in the first place. He couldn't seem to remember -- the details of tonight not involving Jesse's nearly-bare ass were hazy at best. All he knew was that he was  _ here _ , and that the mere thought of having Jesse hovering over his lap again wearing nothing but that nearly nonexistent red thong was enough to make him feel a bit faint from all the alcohol-infused blood rushing from his head to his cock.

 

Hanzo bit into his lip and tried to maintain some air of self-control and propriety, but the alcohol was not helping on that front, nor was the way Jesse was twirling around that pole with his thick arms flexing and his thumb sliding down the stringy waistband of his thong. Hanzo swallowed hard. This would not end well for him.

 

"Deal," Genji was chiming in barely an arm's distance away beside him.  _ Right _ , Hanzo had nearly forgotten his brother was here with how fixated he had been on Jesse. Somehow knowing this was not an entirely  _ private show _ did nothing to alleviate the tightness in his pants. Hanzo was sure he was flushing darker. His suit jacket was suddenly too warm and his tie felt too tight. Hanzo loosened the latter and began to slip off the former, as though it might help him cool off.

 

"I understand," he said in an undertone, not making eye contact under the pretense of being too busy meticulously hanging his suit jacket over the back of his seat. It wasn't as though he could avoid looking for long -- but, so long as he kept away from his wallet, Hanzo was sure he could keep himself from  _ touching _ . He was honorable enough to obey Jesse's rules, drunk or not.

 

Genji had taken the couch - all of it, in fact, spreading out across the entire chaise like he owned it. He looked like he did, too, comfortable against the cushions with one leg bent at the knee and the other heel propped against the arm. Jesse flashed him a grin, too, on his next spin around the pole, then let go and allowed momentum to carry him off the stage and over to Hanzo, who was shedding his jacket and avoiding eye contact. 

 

"And here I thought  _ I _ was the one puttin' on a show," he drawled, leaning in close. His hands closed over the back of the chair on either side of Hanzo's head, thumbs pressing into the smooth fabric of his jacket. It would probably be a little wrinkled by the end of this. Jesse didn't care - Hanzo didn't seem to, either, when Jesse finally managed to catch his eye. "Well hey there, handsome. Now that I've got your  _ attention _ ..." Thick fingers danced over Hanzo's shoulder, down to his sternum so that Jesse could push him down palm flat against his chest. "Let's see if I can  _ keep  _ it, huh? Ain't nothin' I like more than knowin' you're watchin',  _ Mr. Shimada _ . Ya watch me like this when I'm bent over your car, too?" His voice was a low purr, just loud enough that Genji might hear it over the sound of the bass thrumming outside the room. Hanzo could definitely hear it, at least, and Jesse offered him a honeyed smirk before he straightened up again, letting his fingers trail down and then away before they reached where Hanzo was already starting to tent the front of his trousers. 

 

"I certainly hope ya do. Now how bout we give ya somethin' nice'ta celebrate, huh? Can't leave the birthday boy  _ unsatisfied _ ." There was a birthday playlist programmed into the iPad near the speakers, and Jesse sauntered over to it, hips swaying left and right in such a way as to be damn near hypnotic, then flicked through the screen until he found what he was looking for. He pushed play, adjusted the lights - brighter on the stage and darker everywhere else, in case Mr. Shimada decided to get a little  _ handsy  _ \- then returned to the stage, taking the pole in both hands as the first beat boomed through the room, deep and bassy. 

 

Every time Jesse moved in close and ran his hands along Hanzo's clothed chest was both  _ too much _ and  _ not enough _ . He was distressingly good at giving Hanzo the briefest taste of his lips and teeth and well-callused hands, and at keeping him helplessly rapt and painfully aware of the tightness in his pants. The alcohol helped numb his shame somewhat. At least with his inhibitions lowered, Hanzo could stand to sit back and watch as Jesse returned to the stage and began to move to the music, all slow, tempting rolls of his hips that weren't unlike what Hanzo had seen him perform onstage. Only, this was  _ different _ , because it was a show meant primarily for Hanzo's eyes, and Jesse was not at all shy about making and maintaining eye contact whenever he could. Hanzo, meanwhile, could not bring himself to look away.

 

He thus did not notice what Genji was doing, not until he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw that Genji was leaning toward him, grinning wolfishly and flapping a stack of bills in his hand. 

 

" _ Come on, brother, let's not be stingy!"  _ he called out over the music, keeping his arm extended until Hanzo somewhat hesitantly took the bills from him. All hundreds, of course; Genji had an irksome habit of tipping excessively here in America. It was something of a novelty to him, what with gratuities being such a taboo in Japan. Hanzo was beginning to see some of the appeal, if all it took was throwing a bit of money on the stage ( _ or slipping a bill down Jesse's thong _ , his brain helpfully reminded him), and he could do more than just stare. If he wasn't so drunk, Hanzo would have found the idea considerably less appealing. He didn't like paying for a stranger's attention -- but, then, Jesse wasn't exactly a stranger, and Hanzo's attraction wasn't one-sided.

 

Somewhere between his scattered inner-dialogue and Jesse straddling the pole, Hanzo had plucked a hundred from the stack of bills and was crooking his finger for Jesse to come closer. He hadn't exactly found his usual, steely confidence, but the alcohol gave him some semblance of being in control despite his flush and obviously-tented trousers.

 

Jesse would've made it to Hanzo on his own time, after he'd loosened up and made the man forget whatever lingering anxieties seemed to grip him, but that proved unnecessary, for no sooner had Jesse rolled his hips against the pole, gripping the cool metal tight with both hands so that he had the leverage to arch his back and stick his ass out with the beat, that Hanzo was waving cash in his direction. Courtesy of Genji, no doubt, who had a whole was of hundred dollar bills and was fanning them out with a waggle of his brow. 

 

He would've done a lot more for a lot less, but Jesse wasn't about to complain about a little preferential treatment, especially when it came in the form of Hanzo crooking his fingers with that  _ come-hither _ look on his damnably handsome features.

 

Jesse didn't want to seem  _ too _ eager (even though he  _ was _ , even though all Hanzo would have to do was make those bedroom eyes at him and Jesse would be powerless to resist), so he twirled around the pole once more, ground his front and his back against the metal, then finally stepped off the stage, bootheel clicking roughly on the floor with each step. 

 

"Are ya tryina  _ spoil _ me, Mr. Shimada?" His voice was little more than a gruff rumble, pitched low and dripping honey-sweet against Hanzo's ear as Jesse straddled him without touching. His hands returned to the back of the chair - back on the jacket that already held evidence of where Hanzo had spent his night in the form of musk and glitter. 

 

"Cause I'm sure you're the one that needs'ta get a little somethin' special tonight, ain't that right?" Behind them Genji nodded, grin wide and toothy when Jesse proceeded to tuck both knees in on either side of Hanzo's thighs. He had just enough room to edge his knees onto the chair seat, effectively ending on Hanzo's lap, pressed crotch-to-crotch with that hundred dollar bill wavering between them. Jesse ducked down and caught it between his teeth. 

 

"Wherever you'd like it,  _ Mr. Shimada _ ." Whether he meant the money now muffling his words or Hanzo's hands remained entirely up to interpretation, though a quick jerk of his hips had him seating himself quite firmly in that finely-clad lap, the proud strain of his cock pressed against the bulge that tented Hanzo's trousers. 

 

Hanzo had received lap dances in the past, usually paid for in good will by his American contacts, and sat through them with only vague interest. He never had much love for strip clubs or exotic dancers; paying for someone else's attention always struck Hanzo as a bit pathetic. He was reconsidering his position on the matter in Jesse's case, especially when it seemed he was enjoying this just as much as Hanzo not-so-secretly was. The lap dances he had received in the past were all from women, and so Hanzo had no clue as to whether or not it was all part of the show that Jesse was sporting an impressive hard on. Nor was he sure what to do with his hands now that he was being given free reign to place them wherever he desired. It seemed they had a mind of their own, however, for no sooner had Jesse straddled Hanzo's lap and slyly invited him to touch was one of his hands sliding up the hairy expanse of Jesse's firm stomach and across his sternum. It was the first real skin-to-skin contact he'd ever shared with Jesse that was not a mere 'accidental' brush of fingertips, and considering how long he had been secretly drinking in the sight of a grease-stained, bare-chest Jesse McCree whenever he ventured to his garage, Hanzo had been waiting for this for a  _ long _ time. He wanted to slide his palms elsewhere, to press his mouth and teeth along the tempting span of Jesse's throat and shoulder, but Hanzo steeled himself. That would be going to far, probably, and although he was drunk and  _ paying for this _ , Hanzo didn't want to overstep any bounds.

 

Besides, he wasn't sure if he would be able to stand getting any more of a taste of the gorgeous man in his lap. It was almost better when he couldn't touch, when he could only pine after Jesse from afar. This felt a bit like some particularly wicked form of torture. Hanzo swallowed hard and tried to maintain his composure -- outwardly, at least, for he had barely a scrap of it left beyond his relatively calm demeanor.

 

"Tell me, McCree--" The name never sounded quite right when Hanzo said it, especially not when his words were slightly slurred from the alcohol. "--do you work here because you like to, or because you have to? I hate to think that I have been underpaying you for your services."

 

That most certainly would not be the case  _ tonight,  _ however. Hanzo delicately plucked the hundred dollar bill from between Jesse's teeth, then slid the it almost too-tentatively down the back waistband of Jesse's thong. He seemed to be making a point not to grope or to let his hands linger anywhere much longer than was necessary, even as he added a second bill beside the first.

 

Jesse was tempted to clamp his teeth down around the bill when Hanzo reached for it not out of some desire to keep the man from taking it, but rather to see if Hanzo would be willing to play a little tug-of-war, if he'd get closer and put his hands on Jesse's jaw and prize it from his mouth as though Jesse were some dog. He didn't - didn't think Hanzo would understand that it was meant playfully - and instead let him have it, shifting back so that Hanzo had more room to trail his fingers. 

 

The man was unnecessarily careful, though, even as he slipped hundreds into the g-string of Jesse's thong. His touches were perfunctory, in fact, nearly clinical.

 

"Little bit of both, darlin'," he drawled when the question came, trailing his fingers over Hanzo's chest and down to where his shirt was tucked into his trousers. It took a little tugging -  _ Jesse _ had no qualms about putting his hands where he pleased - but soon enough Hanzo's shirttails were free from his waistband, leaving Jesse to tease his fingers along the sliver of skin he could just reach. "But don't ya worry; you've been my most  _ generous _ customer to date." Jesse simply didn't care to charge more than the cost of parts plus effort, not when his night job could pay the rent and the groceries. Again he rolled his hips and again Hanzo stiffened under him, clearly interested but undoubtedly jittery despite the way he'd yet to contest Jesse's place upon his lap. 

 

"And I think that deserves a little somethin', don't ya, Mr. Shimada? Tell me what you'd like'ta see an' maybe I'll show ya somethin' nice for ya trouble."

 

Again, Jesse was asking him to be more unabashedly forward, and again, Hanzo found himself struggling to do so. The alcohol helped with his coyness somewhat, but Hanzo was still feeling hesitant, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Genji was watching. Rather, he still felt as though he was indulging in something he  _ shouldn't  _ be. If it had been any other man straddling his lap right now, perhaps Hanzo would not have felt so uneasy.

 

But perhaps he would not be feeling so  _ turned on _ , either, nor so eager to run his hands and mouth over every available inch of Jesse's bare body. He couldn't stop imagining Jesse, dick peeking out from the stringy waistband of his thong, flushed and leaking as he rocked his hips down against Hanzo's; or Jesse between his legs, sloppy and eager and staring up at him with those twinkling brown eyes...

 

Hanzo clutched his wad of bills more tightly and barely resisted the urge to run his other hand over Jesse's firm ass. Instead, he reached up to toy briefly with the brim of his cowboy hat, tilting it back slightly as if threatening to flick it right off Jesse's head.

 

"There must be something you are popular around here for," Hanzo began, his voice barely loud enough to carry over the sound of the nearby speakers and the ones still blaring outside the room. "Some particular dance, or other  _ talent _ ."

 

His traitorous mind turned again to fantasies of Jesse on his knees, but Hanzo quickly pushed them away. He was not going to pay his mechanic to service him in that way, assuming that was even something Jesse  _ did _ for money; Hanzo would not have been surprised if it was, really. He had been offered such sexual favors many times by those strippers he had been 'entertained' by in the past. But that was not even something to consider here. It was deplorable enough that Hanzo was going along with  _ this _ .

 

He swallowed thickly and pulled Jesse's hat down so that it covered his eyes, as if suddenly too self-conscious to meet them. 

 

"So  _ impress me _ , if you think you can."

 

" _ Oh _ , you're just as discerning clientele here as you are in a car shop, aren't ya?" Jesse laughed and tugged his hat back in place, watching the flush of intoxicated-and-aroused red that crept over Hanzo's cheeks and down the delectable line of his throat. He wanted to follow it - with his teeth and his tongue and the rough pads of his fingers - but settled instead for bending down, mouth pressed close to where he could rumble teasingly against Hanzo's throat. 

 

"I got many talents, Mr. Shimada, an' I'd be happy to show ya  _ all _ of them -" his hips jerked forward one last time, rough and quick and pointedly lewd, before Jesse was shifting off, standing and looming tall over Hanzo. "- but I betcha can guess what I'm best at. Ain't a cowboy in the West that don't know how to  _ ride _ ." 

 

It was a particular favorite move of his (in  _ and  _ out of the bedroom): Jesse turned, rolling his hips in time to the heavy bass that thrummed deafeningly through the room, ass in Hanzo's face and his legs spread wide. Then he dropped back down, sat square in Hanzo's lap. He could feel Hanzo's dick where it strained between his asscheeks, prompting him to grin and grind back like he could get the man off with the friction alone. Maybe he could - maybe shaking what his papa gave him would be enough for the man frozen in the chair, whose hands hovered tempting and unsure near Jesse's hips. Jesse could only hope so, his own hands raised above his head and his back arched as he proceeded to rock back with a wide, cocksure grin. 

 

Hanzo could barely hear the music, let alone his brother's wolf-whistling, over the thundering sound of his own heartbeat. It was pounding against his ribs, in time to the steady throbbing of his cock that was straining painfully against the zipper of his pants. Jesse kept grinding his hips down, the muscular globes of his practically-bare ass cradling the hot bulge of Hanzo's dick. The pressure alone was enough to make his head spin, but coupled with the friction as Jesse slowly gyrated, and the  _ sight  _ of him -- back flexing and shining under the stage lights, the strain of his thick thighs -- was quickly making Hanzo's balls feel tight. He was shockingly close to getting off on this, which he blamed partly on the alcohol, and perhaps somewhat the the intermingling feelings of thrill and shame that came from doing something so debauched with an audience. 

 

Drunk on lust and liquor, Hanzo didn't think twice about grabbing Jesse's hips, digging his fingers in not-quite hard enough to leave marks, and resting his forehead against Jesse's back. His breaths left him in quick, uneven huffs, and every time Jesse rocked his hips back and ground that perfect ass into Hanzo's groin, he gasped and held on tighter. He wasn't sure how long Jesse was on top of him like that -- he had no point of reference when the music was drowned out, and it was near impossible to pay attention to anything that was not Jesse's ass in his lap. So, Hanzo wasn't sure how long he lasted, only that it didn't feel like much time had passed before one particularly enthusiastic grind into his dick had him biting back a groan and burying his face against Jesse's shoulder. Then he was cumming, hard and fast and sudden, his dick twitching and making a mess of his briefs and the seat of his pants. It would be another moment before his orgasm-high abated and mortification washed over him, but in the meantime Hanzo could only revel in the pleasure that buzzed through his entire body while Jesse kept slowly rolling his hips.

 

It wasn't entirely unexpected, mostly because Jesse had gone out of his way to try and evoke some sort of  _ reaction _ , whether physical or vocal. What was unexpected, however, was the way Hanzo gripped him, callused fingers digging into the meat of his hips and holding him like he might never let go. Jesse, for one, wouldn't of found himself complaining had that actually been the case. He was enthusiastic with every quick jerk of his hips, eager to milk Hanzo for his orgasm and even a little curious about what might happen if he were to drop to his knees and clean the very mess he'd made with his mouth and his tongue. 

 

He didn't, of course. Hanzo was holding him too tight, breathing ragged and needy and surely spreading the patch of wetness between them all over the inside of his trousers. 

 

Jesse wondered, between dropping his hands to cover Hanzo's where they flexed against him and grinding back once more for good measure, whether Hanzo would appreciate knowing that he was neither the first nor would he be the last to have an  _ incident  _ in a private booth. Usually they were younger, eager and drunk and desperate to feel skin for what might possibly be the first time in their lives, but it was not the first time Jesse had made someone cum during a dance, and it wasn't even the first time he'd felt the familiar patch of wet, warm spunk against his ass as it soaked through fabric and grew sticky. 

 

"I was hopin' t'get that happy endin'  _ somewhere else _ , darlin'," he drawled, just loud enough to be heard over the music, and pressed himself back against Hanzo's softening dick for good measure, "But I guess this ain't  _ so  _ bad, either." 

 

It was one thing to cum in his pants someplace where only Jesse would be privy to his shamefully eager response. It was another thing entirely that he had done so with an audience -- an audience of only his brother, perhaps, but an audience nonetheless. Genji wouldn't soon forget this, and it was unlikely he would let  _ Hanzo _ forget this, either. Perhaps that had been his plan all along: Bring Hanzo to a strip club, pay for alcohol and a private dance so that his older brother might humiliate himself. And in front of a  _ business associate _ , no less.

 

These thoughts came to Hanzo slowly, made sluggish by the lingering pleasure of his orgasm and the distracting grind of Jesse's hips. Even the alcohol was not enough to entirely cloud his sense of propriety, however, and when Hanzo was clear-headed enough to realize what a mess he had made of himself, the euphoria disappeared all at once. He released his hold on Jesse's hips, then pushed him gently but insistently from his lap. His face felt red-hot with embarrassment, and he couldn't seem to make his tongue work long enough to muster any sort of verbal response to Jesse's sly comments. Whether or not they were earnest didn't matter much to him, at that point; all Hanzo could think of was the shameful wet spot between his legs, and how he could possibly continue to conduct business with Jesse McCree after tonight's foolish indulgences.

 

"Aw,  _ anija,  _ there is no rush," Genji was finally speaking up after a (surprisingly) long stretch of silence, though Hanzo didn't dare look at him. There was a hint of laughter in his voice that was meant to be teasing, but at the moment Hanzo could only construe it as mocking. He stood up as soon as Jesse had been displaced from his lap, threw his suit jacket over his shoulders, and dropped the remaining wad of hundred-dollar bills on his seat. At least he could think with the head above his shoulders now, though the only thought he had was of was how desperately he wished to be back at the apartment and not under the delighted scrutiny of his brother and Jesse. 

 

"Thank you for your service," was all Hanzo managed to say, the stiffly-spoken statement and accompanying bow of his head aimed at Jesse even though he did not so much as glance in the man's direction. Then, with less gracefulness than he would have liked owing to tonight's consumption of vodka and wine, Hanzo made swiftly for the room's exit. 

 

"Hey, Han-  _ Mr. Shimada _ -" Jesse didn't get far. He was nudged off Hanzo's warm lap, and before he could say much of anything at all Hanzo was jumping up and covering his shame as best he could. Then he was gone, out the door with a curt good-bye and not even so much as a 'call me back'. 

 

Jesse was left, undeniably, confused and a little  _ hurt _ , standing half naked with a wad of hundreds on his chair and Genji sitting up from where he'd gotten comfortable sprawled across the couch. Suddenly, the music was too loud, the strobe lights too much, the thin string of a thong between his asscheeks too  _ much _ . He felt absurd, shocked that someone had run out on a dance - someone, more importantly, that Jesse actually wanted to grind on until they were  _ both  _ leaving messes all over themselves and each other. 

 

"Well,  _ damn _ ." The mood snapped, broken like a too-tense string that left Jesse barking out an incredulous laugh, one part embarrassment to two parts confusion. "Ain't ever had  _ that  _ happen before." He wasn't sure what the protocol for this was, honestly. Hanzo was gone - probably already out of the club in the time it took Jesse' to wrap his mind around the fact that he was no longer there. He exchanged a look with Genji, then moved towards the chair, collecting the bills dropped haphazardly on top and setting them down on the low table nearby. "Is he gonna be alright?" Genji was still there, so it couldn't of been  _ that  _ bad, right? "I ain't gone and scared him off, have I?" 

 

Considering how long he had gone without any kind of suitable outlet, it was no surprise that Hanzo came in his pants half-way through a lap dance. Really, if he  _ hadn't _ , Genji might have worried after his brother's reproductive health. 

 

He was glad he had decided to stick around and watch. Though it hadn't exactly been a long show, it was a downright  _ filthy _ one, what with the sight of Jesse with his fat dick straining against the skimpy fabric of his thong, and grinding his ass against the obvious bulge between Hanzo's legs. Oh, how his brother had clearly enjoyed that; how Jesse, too, was flushed pink and clearly relishing in their shared debauchery. They would look good fucking. Genji had been picturing it as they rocked together by the stage. He could imagine how Jesse's tanned, hairy skin and thickly muscled body would look against the pale smoothness of Hanzo's, and how Jesse's thick, veiny cock of his would look rocking against his brother's pert ass. Genji had been tempted to slip a hand between his legs as he eagerly drank in the sight of sight of them, but he had thought better of it -- not so much for the sake of propriety, but because Genji didn't want to be a distraction. Hanzo deserved Jesse's full, undivided attention, and he wasn't about to take that from him. 

 

It turned out that Jesse's  _ undivided attention  _ was potent enough to make his brother cum in just a few short minutes. Genji's dick had throbbed at the sound of his gasp, both turned on and thoroughly pleased with himself for having done Hanzo this small favor. He was a good brother, no matter how often Hanzo tended to complain about him. Surely after  _ tonight  _ he would be in higher spirits and much more amenable to giving praise than harsh criticisms.

 

That was what Genji thought, at least, up until the point that Hanzo made a sudden and hasty exit before either he or Jesse had a chance to do anything about it. Genji hadn't expected  _ that _ , though in retrospect, perhaps he should have; even drunk and less inhibited-Hanzo was obsessed with his strange sense of honor and pride. He must have embarrassed himself.

 

Genji frowned toward the door as it swung shut in Hanzo's wake, his libido slightly dampened by annoyance. Why couldn't Hanzo just enjoy himself, for once? He clearly liked Jesse, and Jesse liked him back. What was the harm in acting on that?

 

"No, no," Genji flapped his hand in front of his face, trying to dismiss Jesse's self-conscious concern before it took root. "He is just being...  _ difficult.  _ I think Hanzo has become so focused on running our family's business that he has forgotten how to enjoy himself."

 

_ The family business _ . Jesse supposed he couldn't particularly blame him. With that kind of responsibility on his shoulders, Hanzo probably couldn't relax long enough to get it up on a good day, much less find release with himself or with someone else. 

 

He hummed, thoughtful and still mulling over Hanzo's hasty retreat, then turned his attention back to the green-haired man still lounging on his couch. Genji didn't look in any hurry to be going anywhere, and they had the booth another forty minutes, at least. It would be such a shame to waste the time; Jesse didn't particularly feel like going back out on the floor, anyway, not with his mood for entertaining effectively soured. He could think of a few ways to brighten it, and one of them involved slinking coyly over to the couch and bending over Genji, one hand braced against the back cushion and the other trailing lazily over the man's shoulder. 

 

"I s'pose I can't stop him from goin' anywhere," Jesse murmured, voice dropped low and husky. He wouldn't worry about it - would try not to, at any rate. "You'll tell him it was all in good fun, yeah? Ain't no hurt feelin's here, and if he ever wants a repeat performance, I'd be  _ more  _ than happy to provide. Free of charge." Preferably in a bed. Naked. 

 

In the meantime, however, his fingers sneaked down Genji's chest, pausing at his sternum and toying idly with the button that strained to hold his shirt closed. "But I was hopin' you'd stick around a little longer. I ain't gotten t'show off  _ everythin _ ', and I think you appreciate some of my more...  _ interesting _ , moves." 

 

Genji considered turning down Jesse's offer in favor of hunting down his brother and making sure he got back to the apartment alright, or perhaps he could try to convince Hanzo to  _ stay _ , but Jesse made a far too appealing sight in that barely-there thong, and Hanzo was perfectly capable of calling a driver. He could be checked on later, Genji decided. He would even go so far as to turn in early tonight to make sure that Hanzo had passed out on a bed or a couch rather than a floor somewhere. 

 

In the meantime, Genji was going to sit back and enjoy the rest of Jesse's show. It would be a shame to end his performance so prematurely, and Genji had an inkling that for all that Jesse claimed no hard feelings he was at least a  _ little _ stung by Hanzo's brisk exit. 

 

So, he sat back, tilting his head to one side in silent invitation and watching Jesse with a hungry, toothy smile. 

 

"I think I would, too," Genji agreed, the enthusiasm clear in his twinkled honey-brown eyes. "I have enjoyed your performances so far." Then, impishly: "That last one in particular. You looked good in his lap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for McCree  
> Tea wrote for Genji and Hanzo


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo shows his face again. Jesse proceeds to kiss it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

It'd been a few days. 

 

Sure, Genji still texted him. Almost daily, in fact, with everything from photos of his dick to idle questions about Jesse's favorite color or favorite mode of transportation. Jesse didn't think too much of it; he enjoyed the distraction and appreciated the younger Shimada's company whenever he swung by the garage either in the hottest hours of the afternoon or just before closing. 

 

Still, Genji's reassurances didn't do much to keep him from feeling like he'd fucked things up with Hanzo. 

 

The eldest Shimada hadn't shown his face since the incident at the strip club, which was rare enough to begin with. Hardly a few days went by usually, before Hanzo returned with his car and some semi-plausible reason for Jesse to take a peek under the hood. To have had nearly a week pass was unheard of. 

 

It made Jesse wonder if he hadn't scared the man off. 

 

It would've been a shame, really. He found Hanzo Shimada charming and handsome, and the compensation for the work Jesse did on the car was always more than generous. To lose all that - and maybe whatever bit of respect he'd garnered or whatever chance he might've had - was very nearly heartbreaking. 

 

Still, Jesse didn't try to pry, even if Genji had slipped Hanzo's personal number into his phone the last time he'd come to visit. 

 

He didn't want to seem  _ too  _ desperate, and if Hanzo had really taken offense or been made uncomfortable by the situation, Jesse had no intention of exacerbating the situation further. 

 

Of course, every justification he might've tried to make for his own cowardice flew quite firmly out the window when one bright and muggy Thursday afternoon one very familiar McLaren rolled into his garage, green stripes scratched up all along the side and the right rearview mirror hanging on by a few loose wires and a prayer. 

 

Jesse set down his oil rag and pulled away from a bright orange Corvette, wiping his dirty palms on his equally-dirty jeans in some effort to look more presentable when none other than Hanzo himself stepped out from behind the wheel, looking prim and sharp in the impeccable cut of his suit. 

 

"Mr. Shimada; what happened? Are you alright?" 

 

Hanzo did intend to personally return to McCree's garage anytime soon, not after the strip club  _ incident _ that he so desperately kept pushing from his mind.

 

However, Hanzo had not anticipated that a gaggle of empty-headed thugs to be foolish enough to try goading him into a street race. He had also not anticipated they would be insane (or possibly high) enough to slam into the side of a half a million dollar sports car only to drive away howling victoriously.

 

It had been easy enough to track them down. It would have been just as easy to put a bullet through all four of their vapid heads. Any police investigating the scene could be paid off or bribed, though it was just as likely that no one would think much of a group of gang bangers winding up dead in some grungy back alley.

 

Luckily for them, Hanzo was in a merciful mood that day. The four thugs escaped with their lives -- albeit not before being thoroughly terrified, to such an extent that it was clear their only taste of crime was the petty sort. All the more reason they were not worth Hanzo's bullets.

 

He was still shaking with anger following that encounter, the sight of his car -- from its dented driver-side door and destroyed mirror, to the scrapes of red paint marring the vibrant green -- nearly enough to make him reconsider his decision to spare their lives. It was that same fury that had him shoving aside all thoughts of avoiding McCree's garage for the foreseeable future. Hanzo could not leave the Mclaren in this state, after all, and there was only one man in all of Los Angeles he could trust to fix it.

 

By the time Hanzo rolled into the garage, his mood was still stormy but it was tempered by the dawning realization of where he was, of  _ who  _ was approaching him in his usual grease-stained ensemble consisting of a too-tight shirt and cowboy boots. Hanzo dug his nails into the palm of one hand as he stepped out of his car, slamming the door just a bit too harshly behind him. The mirror fell off with a cacophonous  _ thud _ , and for a moment Hanzo said nothing, stony-faced in the way he often was when grappling with emotion.

 

When at last he spoke, there was cold fury in his voice -- along with  something else that had him avoiding direct eye contact.

 

"I am fine. It was a... hit and run."

 

Even Jesse couldn't help but flinch as the mirror hit the concrete floor, wincing in sympathy at the sad looking sight the McLaren made. Such a car had no business looking anything less than perfectly polished and sleek. 

 

"Sorry t'hear that. I'm glad you're alright, though." Besides looking a touch rattled around the edges, Hanzo hadn't a hair out of place. He still affected that same cool, stern demeanor and appeared to be bored of the idle chit-chat already. Jesse, for his part, just tried not to stare. 

 

The mirror would be an easy enough fix, honestly. Sourcing a replacement part  _ would  _ take some time, but Jesse knew a guy that dealt with exotic car parts. 

 

As always, he offered for Hanzo to take a sit anywhere he wanted, gesturing grandly to the garage as though there were anywhere for a man to put his ass that wouldn't result in dusty pants or grease-stains on a sleeve. Still, it seemed only polite while Jesse assessed the vehicle, picking at the red scratches with his nail to see how deep the damage went. He gathered the broken rearview mirror in what felt like  _ incredibly  _ awkward silence, checked all over for other dents or scratches, then returned to his desk without his usual rambling monologue. He wasn't sure what to say, really. The awkwardness crackled like electricity, fueled in part by Hanzo's palpable anger over the state of his car and Jesse's concerted effort not to make himself out to be some kind of fool. 

 

"It'll take a couple weeks," he finally said, jotting down a few notes on his tablet. He'd have to find the perfect colormatch paint for the scratches, buff out the red already there - sunken so deep into the enamel that he feared it would all have to be stripped, anyway - and get his hands on a replacement rearview to begin with. "Won't be cheap, either. I'll try'ta find ya a decent deal, but I don't wanna mince words around ya, Mr. Shimada. Parts alone might cost ya ten grand." Not to speak of the labor costs. "Let's say - tentative estimate - twelve grand?" Were it anyone else, Jesse would've quoted higher. Eighteen, maybe twenty, considering how many days he'd have to set aside for the perfect paintjob alone. But it was Hanzo Shimada and Jesse felt entirely responsible for souring both their working and their personal relationship. A steep discount wouldn't fix things, necessarily, but it was a better apology than he could offer in words. 

 

"If that seems agreeable, I can put in the part order by tomorrow and you'll have her back good as new at the end of the month." 

 

If money had been a concern, Hanzo would have gotten insurance information (doubtful though it was those miscreants were insured) or have threatened them into providing compensation. He was not, however, concerned with cost. Money was no object in his life. The only nuisance was how long the repairs would take, not how costly they would be.

 

He did not balk when Jesse named his price, but the crease between his brows belied his still-bubbling anger. The tense and awkward silence that had stretched between them did not help settle Hanzo's rattled temper any; discomfort, as it turned out, just left him feeling even more agitated than before. 

 

"That is acceptable," he said tersely, having already been prepared to pay at least double what Jesse estimated. Perhaps the mechanic was trying to cut him a deal.

 

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause before Hanzo could not help but speak again. 

 

"If that is your discounted price, do not bother. I am not concerned about what it costs." Hanzo unclenched his fists which he only now realized had been biting into his palms at his sides hard enough to leave visible marks. "Charge me what is fair for you."

"What's  _ fair  _ is whatever'll keep ya comin' back,  _ Hanzo _ . Don't think I ain't noticed you've been avoidin' comin' around this past week." Facing the elephant in the room head-on wasn't something Jesse had particularly wanted to do, but this was an argument they'd hashed and re-hashed every time that Hanzo came in. Jesse would undercut himself to get his best customer the best deal, then Hanzo would come back to him with smarting pride and a tip that all but doubled the originally-stated amount. It'd become somewhat of a game between them, honestly, but Jesse was feeling anything but playful this time around, discomfort eating at him such that he - a man not known to be phased by much of anything at all - had two spots of pink staining the apples of his cheeks when he finally tore his gaze away from the McLaren to instead try and catch Hanzo's eye.

 

"Twelve thousand, firm. Consider the discount an apology for makin' shit awkward." And maybe for sleeping with his brother, though that was one thing that Jesse could neither bring himself to regret, nor to stop. 

 

Though their back and forth over pricing was nothing outside the norm, Hanzo was in an irritable enough of a mood not to accept 'no' as an answer, this time. He puffed up visibly, straightening to his full height (though McCree still stood nearly half a foot above him) and folding his arms with an obstinate scowl etched across his face. 

 

"Is this why you must work a second job? Because you undercharge your clients?" It was less a question and more of an accusation, especially when coupled with his cutting tone of voice. "I will pay you what is fair. Enough with your unnecessary discounts. I come here for your service, not for your prices."

 

Genji had asked that same question, not so long ago, though his had been tinged with a genuine curiosity and a playful amount of teasing. Jesse didn't get quite the same vibe from his brother, though that didn't stop him from answering the same way. 

 

"Is it so hard t'believe that I like my jobs?" Yes, maybe he did undercharge occasionally, but that didn't mean he really needed the stripping gig. He lived fairly modestly to begin with, in a junky little studio apartment above a restaurant near Chinatown, where the ceiling leaked regularly and the smell of car grease mingled with cooking oil such that there wasn't a night he didn't have the windows open and half a dozen candles burning low to keep himself from feeling nauseous. It was comfortable enough, by his standards; he wanted for little and never went hungry, and that wasn't so terrible, was it? 

 

"And is that really  _ all  _ ya come for?" They were really very close all of a sudden, though Jesse had no real recollection of making himself cross the distance until he was towering over Hanzo, his own arms crossed defensively over his chest and lip curled in a displeased pout. "Tell me why ya ran off, Hanzo." 

 

This was not a conversation Hanzo wanted to have. In fact, he had gone to great lengths specifically  _ not _ to have it, determined to avoid McCree for as long as was needed to process his embarrassment (unlikely) or find another mechanic ( _ possible _ , but not desirable). Hanzo had not wanted to come here today, just days after their most recent encounter. Now that he was here, however, he had been determined to avoid that particular topic of conversation.

 

McCree had other interests, it seemed. Either he was lacking the social awareness to see that Hanzo had been steadfastly refusing to acknowledge the source of the tension in the room, or he simply didn't care. Whatever the case, Hanzo did not appreciate his bluntness, and when he locked eyes with McCree , his expression was drawn into a harsh, angry glare. For a moment it seemed as though he was not going to answer, his lips pulled tight into a scowl as though he was stubbornly refusing to speak. Indeed, he considered stalking out of McCree's garage with only an icy goodbye and promise to return in a month. It was certainly tempting, but impulse won out over his usual stoicism, and instead Hanzo found himself replying.

 

"You  _ humiliated _ me," he snapped, his glower turning accusatory. "You and my brother both. He was the one who put you up to it, and you agreed -- for what? His money? Your own amusement?"

 

" _ Humiliated _ ?" Jesse looked startled, the word spat as though it'd stung him, and whatever righteous anger he might've built up fizzled out like a flame underwater, rendering Jesse slack-jawed and contrite. 

 

"Ah, shit, Hanzo, that ain't what I was aimin' for at  _ all _ . And I doubt Genji was either." He dropped his hands, suddenly feeling very much like a schoolboy caught red-handed doing something he most certainly shouldn't of. "He mentioned... some stuff, about ya, an' I reckoned it might be a way t'get ya t'loosen up a little. Hell, the last thing I wanna do is sour your opinion of me." It was his turn to break eye contact prematurely, gaze darting away towards the car while Jesse reached up to scratch through his hair and around the short ponytail he kept it in. "Honestly, I'm surprised ya ain't noticed me makin' eyes at ya before. I figured ya didn't say nothin' for... professional reasons, but ain't that just gone out the window?" He snorted, finally tossing a coy glance Hanzo's way. The man was still glowering, lines etched deep across his forehead and expression full of suspicion. 

 

Jesse wanted to kiss that discontent scowl until it melted away, wanted to ruffle Hanzo's feathers like he'd done a week ago, but all he managed to do was shuffle just a little closer, the toe of one boot knocking against high-polished leather. "Tell me how I can make it up to ya, Mr. Shimada. I don't want ya thinkin' I'm some kinda  _ cad _ ." 

 

Hanzo had anticipated something resembling defensiveness or affront, not for McCree to look taken aback and then practically  _ puppish. _ He had the expression of a kicked dog, for a moment, simultaneously surprised and guilt-stricken in a way that made some of Hanzo's anger instantly dissolve. This was not the face of a man with wicked intentions. Moreover, there was nothing insincere about the way McCree responded. It wasn't quite an apology, but it had all the makings of one and Hanzo couldn't bring himself to write it off as mere lip-service. McCree had so far proven himself to be a trustworthy man; he kept secrets and turned a blind eye to anything that hinted at criminal or not-strictly-legal on Hanzo's end. He did not ask questions; he did not inflate his prices. There was a reason Hanzo had settled upon McCree's garage and nowhere else for all of his car maintenance.

 

Still, Hanzo was not entirely put at ease. He tensed as McCree moved closer to him, suddenly in his space in a way that had Hanzo's arms dropping from where they had been folded across his chest, instinctively moving as though for a knife or a gun (both of which he had discretely strapped on his person, of course). He held his breath without thinking to, staring up at McCree with such inscrutable intensity that it was difficult to tell whether he was about to stab the mechanic or yank him down for a kiss. 

 

For now, he did neither, choosing instead to speak. His voice was even, far less hostile-sounding than it had been moments ago, although it was often at his seemingly calmest that Hanzo chose to strike -- 'the eye of the storm', as Genji called it.

 

"You struck me as the type who always speaks his mind," he said, in a tone of voice that suggested this was neither a good nor a bad thing. "You also struck me as someone who does not care for professionalism. Was my patronage that important to you, or are you lying to me?"

 

"Now why would I lie to a man like  _ you _ ?" It was as though a switch had been flipped, as though Jesse had caught a whiff of something - Hanzo's cologne or his hesitance, maybe - and in response decided to crank the charm up to a solid eleven. "You're right, though. I ain't been forward." That would have been a fool's gambit - the kind of thing that would've surely cost him his life at any given moment. "I wasn't sure if you'd let me, and after last week, what makes ya think I'd risk you runnin' off again?" Hanzo was sober this time, though, and he'd yet to shove Jesse away or otherwise put any distance between them. Surely he didn't think that Jesse was just  _ posturing,  _ or trying to intimidate him. That wasn't Jesse's intention either, even if the wicked grin he shot Hanzo's way was all shark teeth and intent. 

 

"If this is an invitation, though, I'd be happy to demonstrate just how much I appreciate your so-called  _ patronage _ ." It was his company Jesse was more after, but the wink he threw Hanzo's way was very difficult to ignore. 

 

The sudden, albeit subtle shift in McCree's demeanor had not escaped Hanzo's notice. Coupled with the fact that McCree had confessed to having  _ made eyes _ at Hanzo -- that, too, had not entirely escaped Hanzo's notice -- made it clear that the other night's lap dance had not been out of pity or mockery. McCree was interested. Of course he was, why wouldn't he be? Hanzo knew he was attractive. He had had more than his share of subtle and not-so-subtle passes from women (and men) at private clubs and casual 'business meetings' all throughout his career. The only difference between him and his promiscuous brother was that Hanzo put business before pleasure, and never dared to mix the two.

 

It was why he had not acted on any of McCree's surreptitious glances, nor had he made his own desires known. McCree was a business partner. Their relationship was to remain professional.

 

But that ship had clearly sailed. Was there truly any point in maintaining appearances at this point? McCree didn't seem to think so.

 

And, quite honestly, neither did Hanzo.

 

His eyes narrowed as McCree shuffled closer, and he leered up at him with that same intensity that crumbled the nerves of weaker men but seemed to only embolden the one standing before him. The toothy grin on McCree's face was irksome, but Hanzo felt no inclination to wipe it off his face with a mean remark or sharp backhand, even after that unbearably  _ obvious _ wink.

 

"You are shameless," he said, though it sounded more like an observation than a disparaging remark. All of his anger from before had simmered to something else, compounding the warmth of desire spreading across Hanzo's nerves. Standing still was maddening. Watching as McCree towered over him, hovering too-close while not-close enough, left Hanzo feeling unbearably restless. For a man who valued actions over words, he could not bring himself to do nothing but wait.

 

So he didn't.

 

Without further preamble, Hanzo grabbed at the front of McCree's grease-stained shirt and tugged him in for the kiss they had both been so desperately itching for.

 

Even if Jesse had expected the kiss, he would've been caught off-guard by the way Hanzo yanked him down like it was the only thing in life that mattered. Still, he'd be a fool to let himself idle, even if it took a minute to gather his bearings and reach for Hanzo's perfectly-starched vest. Jesse twisted his fingers in the silky fabric and left grease stains on Hanzo's tie, shuffling them back one step, then another half until Hanzo leaned against the door of the McLaren. 

 

"I  _ am _ ," he agreed with a quiet rumble when Hanzo's lips were bitten a perfectly-tempting shade of pink, moving down to press his mouth and the bristles of his unkempt beard against the wide expanse of Hanzo's throat, revealed after Jesse's fumbling attempts to loosen his tie and pop the first few buttons of his shirt. "Fuck, Hanzo, if only you'd stuck around the other night, I woulda shown ya just how damn  _ shameless  _ I can be." Though... there was no reason that Jesse couldn't give him a taste of it now. He sucked along the tendons of Hanzo's throat and over the jut of his collarbone, hands wandering further down as he worked to tug loose the belt buckle and ignored the not-so-subtle press of something distinctly gun-shaped under Hanzo's vest. It wasn't his place to ask questions nor his purview to care in the first place. Jesse had tangoed with all kinds, before. 

 

Eventually he moved on from sucking pale hickeys along the underside of Hanzo's throat and somehow managed to undo the button and zip of his trousers, one hand slipping down the front of Hanzo's pants to cup his cock and balls. 

 

"Shit. Feels even better than I remembered it. Wanted to suck ya clean last time," he rumbled, teeth catching the lobe of Hanzo's ear in a gentle, teasing bite. "And then see if you had it in ya t'go again. Think you'd look so damn handsome sittin' on my face, Mr. Shimada. Ain't no better throne in the world, I'll tell ya what."

 

It had been a long, long time since Hanzo had last allowed anyone to kiss him. It had been longer still since anyone dared to kiss him so roughly. He was not keen on being left with visible marks, for no reason other than maintaining his cold, untouchable demeanor. He had a reputation to uphold, and in Hanzo's line of work, reputations were everything. 

 

At the moment, however, he couldn't bring himself to care about the way McCree's teeth scraped below his jaw and sucked his lower lip swollen. He didn't mind the grease stains on his suit or the button that had popped loose -- it was nothing that money could not fix, and any marks left behind could be hidden with a bit of makeup. And anyway, Hanzo was too high on sensation, on the feeling of those sharp bites and the hard press of those roughly callused hands as McCree seemed desperate to yank and tug and grope at every inch of Hanzo he could. 

 

The cool metal of the McLaren pressed up against Hanzo's back before he even realized that McCree was guiding him backward. It was a good thing, too; Hanzo needed something to lean his weight against when McCree got a hand around his cock and his knees suddenly threatened to give out beneath him. 

 

For all that he was an incessant chatter, McCree was also a man of action. That was not to say that Hanzo was satisfied with just his hand, not in light of all that tempting  _ filth _ coming from his mouth. 

 

And what a mouth it was, too. 

 

"Enough chatter," Hanzo demanded, in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. He gave McCree's shirt another rough yank. "What is it you Americans say? 'There is no time like the present'?"

 

"What, ya don't like what I'm sayin'?" Even if Jesse thought that was the case, rather than Hanzo's impatience spurring him to snappishness, the way his dick twitched in Jesse's hand was indication to the contrary. Hanzo loved every bit of filth that spilled from Jesse's wide, grinning mouth, even if he might love that mouth a little more were it occupied with other things. 

 

Someone could walk in at any moment. His door was always open; hell, the fucking bay door was pulled up, letting the sunlight spill through to heat the concrete. The yellow glow crept slowly towards them as the minutes passed, marching on towards high noon and marking time with a sharp line of yellow-gold that illuminated everything not otherwise cast in shadow. A muggy breeze blew through, hastened by the slowly-turning fan above them and carrying with it the scent of the Burger King from down the street mixed with car oil and Los Angeles heat. 

 

Jesse sank to his knees. 

 

If someone were to walk in on them, they would be met with the sight of one sharp-dressed man draped over the side of an equally-sharp car, his knees weak and his expression fading from stern to slack-jawed while Jesse McCree mouthed him through the silk of his undershorts, expression blissful as though this was the only thing he cared to spend his afternoon on. 

 

And indeed, Jesse couldn't say he would complain if this was how his day went. 

 

Broad palms bracketed Hanzo's legs, thumbs digging into the meat of his thighs and the distinct strap of a knife holster he could feel underneath the bespoke fabric of his trousers. Jesse ignored it in favor of sinking his teeth into the waistband of Hanzo's boxers, dragging them down with a greedy sound at the back of his throat when Hanzo's dick popped free and smacked his cheek, leaving a little streak of pre in the bristles of Jesse's beard. 

 

What McCree was saying wasn't an issue -- quite the contrary, as evidenced by the fact that Hanzo was already hard and leaking by the time the mechanic fell to his knees and fished out his cock. It was what he was saying when he could be  _ doing _ , though to his credit, it was not long before McCree was beginning to put his words into action. The sight of him alone was intoxicating; a thin sheen of sweat clung to his tan skin, a smear of pre glistened across his cheek and in the hair of his trimmed beard, and although McCree was not looking at him, Hanzo could see the gleeful, hungry glint in those dark brown eyes. 

 

More enticing still was that lopsidedly grinning mouth that hovered oh-so-close to where Hanzo needed it. Every warm puff of McCree's breath had Hanzo nearly squirming and the fist at one side clenching tighter until, finally, he grabbed instead at the back of McCree's head.

 

McCree seemed to get the message, though by all accounts there was nothing subtle in the way Hanzo pulled McCree toward his cock until his face was practically buried against it. All he needed to do was open his mouth.

 

" _ Yes _ \--" Hanzo hissed, releasing a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he felt the first hot, wet slide of McCree's tongue. He was not typically vocal, but after so many weeks and months of silent yearning for the man now mouthing at his cock, it was impossible to maintain his composure.

 

It was a troublesome development, considering how loudly the garage echoed. 

 

"If only I'd known you were  _ this _ eager," Jesse mumbled with a laugh, smug for all that he was the one with his face pressed in Hanzo's crotch, so tantalizingly close to his dick and yet denying them both a few moments longer. He tugged lightly against that firm grip in his hair and shivered when Hanzo yanked it in response, scalp sensitive and electricity racing down his spine.

 

This could get dangerous, if he wasn't careful, but Jesse McCree hadn't shied away from anything in his whole entire life. He wasn't about to start now.

 

He dragged his tongue along the length of Hanzo's cock and palmed at his ass with one work-rough hand, squeezing until Hanzo jerked forward and slipped into the inviting warmth of his parted lips. Jesse took as much as he could and then a little bit more, choking himself in his eagerness and forced to pull back against Hanzo's grip in his hair if he wanted to catch his breath. He cleared his throat and licked his lips and wasted no more time in going back for more, sucking Hanzo down with every bit of zeal a man starved might display. 

 

Normally, Hanzo would have been affronted by the teasing lilt in McCree's voice and taken it to mean he was being mocked for his eagerness. However, it was difficult to feel insulted when McCree's mouth was around his cock, and whatever annoyance Hanzo felt was forgotten the moment McCree swallowed him down to the hilt. The clench of his throat -- tight and spasming from a cough as McCree's enthusiasm got the better of him -- had Hanzo's vision swimming and his head tilting backward, his breath escaping him in choked-sounding gasps. McCree had a talent for more than just fixing cars and lap dancing, clearly. Though it might have just as well been the years of self-inflicted abstinence or the many months spent pining that had Hanzo already reduced to a shaky mess by the time McCree began to slowly bob his head, rather than some inhuman cock-sucking talent on McCree's part.

 

Proud as he was, Hanzo did not often allow himself to grow so embarrassingly desperate. Only there was no helping it, now, and rather than continue to fight it, Hanzo embraced the feeling with gusto. He continued grabbing at McCree's hair, letting him set the pace for now but unwilling to give up his grip, as though he might crumple to his knees if he did not keep himself perfectly wedged between McCree and his McLaren. He gasped and hissed with every pass of McCree's tongue along the head of his cock, and practically whimpered the first time McCree swallowed him down whole and hollowed out his cheeks, the intensity of it nearly too much. Somehow, the realization that there were no locked doors leading into the garage, that at any given moment someone might come walking in to the sight of Hanzo looking positively wrecked while his mechanic sucked him off against his ruined car, was  _ thrilling _ rather than cause to shove McCree away.

 

Perhaps McCree was not the only shameless one, after all.

 

"If only I had known that  _ you _ were this eager," Hanzo belatedly shot back, peering down at McCree only to groan at the sight of him. He looked impossibly handsome, even now, with his lips stretched wide around Hanzo's dick and his dark eyes glassy. Unable to help himself, Hanzo reached down to trace his thumb along that inviting, spit-slick mouth. 

 

Had Hanzo known, would he have even done anything? Jesse doubted it wholeheartedly, for he didn't think himself to be a particularly subtle man. He was sure he'd projected his feelings pretty blatantly, making himself obvious in whatever way he could short of wearing a bright, neon sign above his head. It had become an exercise in futility eventually, though, and until a scant few days ago Jesse hadn't thought he'd even had a chance. 

 

Now he was on his knees in the middle of the day with his mouth full of dick and his hands full of ass, fingers digging into the firm muscle and teasing the sensitive skin behind Hanzo's balls. 

 

Jesse moaned, lathing his tongue along the underside of Hanzo's cock and urging Hanzo a little bit closer with a firm squeeze and a greedy suck. He felt fingers on his cheek and opened his eyes to peer up at Hanzo's flushed face, taking in his pink cheeks and glassy, blown-out pupils. Hanzo was impossibly beautiful, standing above him like some debauched godling incapable of remaining stoic in the face of overwhelming pleasure. Jesse couldn't help but feel a little smug - a little proud of himself, honestly - for reducing Hanzo to such a state. 

 

He was still grinning like a cat with cream when he eased away and replaced his mouth with one rough hand, stroking Hanzo from base to tip while his lips sought out his thumb. He kissed the tip, then parted his mouth to suck on that too, smirking up at Hanzo with hollwed cheeks and greedy sucks. 

 

It shouldn't have come as any surprise that McCree was as shamelessly debauched now as he had been at the strip club. Hanzo was less mortified this time, at least, without an audience and only the  _ possibility _ that someone might stumble upon him. He preferred it this way, preferred having McCree sequestered off on his own so that those sultry lips and that smoldering stare and wicked smirk was for Hanzo's sole enjoyment. 

 

But mortified or not, Hanzo stilled blushed a bright shade of red when McCree suckled on his thumb with that same sly smile, staring up at him with hooded eyes. He was so incomprehensibly handsome in that moment that Hanzo could not control himself. With a muffled curse, he yanked at McCree's hair until his face was once more pressed flush to his cock, and pulled his thumb from the luxuriously hot and wet confines of his mouth to grip instead at his chin. He was so close already; all Hanzo needed was a little more, and McCree's lips were so tantalizingly  _ close _ .

 

" _ Please _ ," he groaned without thinking, too desperate for pride. All Hanzo could think of was how he wanted to see McCree staring up at him with his mouth stuffed full of dick, his cheek hollowed out and his eyes a little glassy from taking Hanzo to the root.  _ Damn him,  _ but he was beautiful like that. 

 

Jesse didn't need to be told twice. Hanzo was clearly feeling impatient, fingers tight in his hair and a plea hissed between his lips that had Jesse simultaneously smug and painfully aroused, dick pressing against the zipper of his jeans. He reached down to palm at it in some misguided attempt to relieve the pressure, mouthing at Hanzo's dick in the meantime like he wasn't in any rush. And really,  _ he  _ wasn't. Hanzo, however, did not seem to share the sentiment. Another harsh tug made Jesse groan and acquiesce, finally parting his lips for the fat head of Hanzo's dick as it nudged persistently against his cheek. 

 

He wondered how Hanzo might react if he stood up, if he crowded the other man against the door of his car and whispered filth in his ear until Hanzo came - just like last time. Hopefully he'd get the chance to find out more than the one time, though for now Jesse stayed right where he was, hollowing out his cheeks as he swallowed Hanzo down to the hilt and then held him there. It was a feat, honestly. Hanzo's hips twitched like he couldn't still them if he tried and his fingers played in Jesse's hair, tugging up the errant curls and leaving them in unkempt disarray. 

 

If anyone were to walk in, they'd know without question what the two men had gotten up to, and Jesse kind of wished that someone would, sucking harder and peering up at Hanzo through tear-clumped lashes like that might incentivise the man to be a bit more vocal. 

 

It hadn't taken very long for McCree to make him cum last time, despite how much Hanzo had imbibed and despite (or perhaps  _ in part thanks to)  _ the fact that Genji had been there watching. There were fewer distractions, now. Hanzo could think of nothing that was not McCree and the mouth around his cock. He could not look away, staring down at McCree's flushed face and wet eyes, watching raptly as his cock disappeared past those stretched lips and relishing in the occasional, muffled groans that vibrated through McCree's throat. He was as skilled at giving head as he was in repairing cars, a fact that had Hanzo briefly entertaining the thought that McCree might do this often. The accompanying spike of jealousy was unwelcome, and thankfully easy to ignore amid the best blowjob of Hanzo's life.

 

It was little wonder why he didn't last. In the end, all it took was a bit of eye contact -- those greyish-brown eyes crinkling at the corners in a smug grin -- and the press of one of McCree's fingers just past his taint. Hanzo came with only a sharp tug of McCree's hair as warning, and didn't manage to shove a fist against his mouth before a loud, breathy groan escaped him. A moment later, he sagged against the side of the McLaren as though his legs were giving out while his hips twitched with the last of his orgasm, and if McCree was offended by the cum coating the back of his throat he sure didn't  _ look _ it.

 

Hanzo gave very little warning before he came. He wasn't vocal like his brother, nor did he seem particularly aware of his own body's limits. It wasn't surprising. Genji had mentioned that it had been a hot minute since Hanzo had last done anything with anyone; Jesse couldn't rightly blame him for popping off so early. He kinda liked it, actually. Knowing that  _ he  _ had been the one to reduce Hanzo to this state, had been the one to make Hanzo break his self-imposed celibacy, had Jesse feeling extremely smug. Far too smug for a man choking on a dick in the middle of a grease-stained car shop. 

 

He swallowed what he could and let the rest catch in his beard when he finally eased away, one kiss after another pressed sloppily to Hanzo's dick and then to his jutting hipbone. Jesse felt about fit to burst, himself. His dick pressed painfully against his pants, and Hanzo's slack-jawed, pleasured expression was so fucking  _ hot  _ that Jesse could hardly resist the temptation to shove a hand down his pants. He managed to pop his fly, at least, thick fingers fumbling with the closure of his jeans while he knelt on hard concrete with Hanzo's softening cock a tantalizing few inches away from his nose. 

 

Jesse grinned, dropping a teasing kiss to the tip before leaning back so that Hanzo could watch him wrap a hand around himself, the tip of his dick peeking out from between his fingers as he stroked himself with a shuddering moan. 

 

McCree was making a show of himself, thick thighs spread wide apart as he crouched before Hanzo and pumped his cock with slow, lazy strokes. The darkly flushed head was glistening where Hanzo could glimpse it between McCree's grease-stained fingers, and he could not help the way he stared, seemingly transfixed by the debauched display, nor could Hanzo help that he wanted to see  _ more _ .

 

It was not long before Hanzo grew dissatisfied with simply watching from where he was slumped against the side of his McLaren. There was nothing stopping him from doing more than just looking now that they weren't in that ridiculous strip club, and Hanzo had wanted to get his hands on the man knelt before him for far too long to pass on the opportunity now. Not bothering to tuck himself back into his pants or otherwise compose himself, Hanzo surged forward and caught McCree by the collar, tugging him forward and up until he stumbled to his feet and pressed against Hanzo's chest. Without a word -- and without much care as to where McCree's mouth had only just been -- Hanzo yanked him in for a kiss, biting at McCree's bottom lip when it felt like he might be trying to pull away and swatting at the hand still fumbling with his dick when he didn't immediately let go for Hanzo's to take over.

 

When he finally did wrap his hand around the the thick shaft and felt the hot weight of it against his palm, Hanzo knew without any shadow of a doubt -- as though any had existed, after that blowjob -- that he would have McCree again. Whatever compunctions Hanzo had had over muddling business with pleasure were summarily dashed. He  _ would _ have this man, professionalism be damned.

 

"You've wanted this from the start," Hanzo growled between kisses, his fist working McCree's cock at a quick, indulgent pace, "ever since you first saw me driving into your shop. How  _ uncouth. _ "

 

" _ Hah  _ -" Jesse was left panting against Hanzo's jaw, smug grin still firmly in place and hips rolling slow and indulgent into the fist wrapped snug around him. He couldn't deny the accusation; didn't even want to. Hanzo Shimada had been a damn sight to behold the first time he'd set foot in Jesse's garage, and Jesse had been smitten from the start. There really was no point in arguing. 

 

There was, however, ample opportunity to deflect, and maybe to stroke his own ego. "How long  _ you  _ wanted it, Hanzo?" One hand slipped under Hanzo's half-buttoned vest, fingers skimming over smooth skin and up higher until Jesse could see a delicious sliver of pale skin. He wanted to sink right back down to his knees, wanted to bite and kiss the insides of Hanzo's thighs until he was shaking again, but the palm around his dick felt too good for him to just simply let it stop. Instead, he pinched and tugged and dragged Hanzo closer, pressing against his front and catching his mouth in a greedy kiss. "First time y'saw me bent over your car? Or was it at the club the other day? Or was it when Genji showed ya photos of my ass?" 

 

The hand currently working McCree's cock momentarily froze. Hanzo leaned back -- not far enough to get away, pinned as he was between McCree's chest and the side of the McLaren, but far enough to throw McCree an incredulous (and flustered) stare.

 

"He--  _ what _ ?" Hanzo sputtered, unaware of the way his hand squeezed at the base of McCree's cock as he spoke. Indeed, Genji  _ had _ sent along a few photos of McCree's ass. How he had acquired them, or why he had deigned to text them to Hanzo's number with a suggestive wink was beyond him. That Genji had also decided to tell McCree of this could only mean he wanted to embarrass Hanzo.

 

They would have a talk about this. For now, Hanzo composed himself, his dark eyes narrowing and his hand resuming its quick, steady pumps.

 

"Your  _ skill  _ was what piqued my interest," he said at length, voice pitched low. One hand moved to his vest, trapping McCree's palm as Hanzo caught his wrist, though he made no moves to tug it away. "You have talented hands. I wanted to see what else you could do with them."

 

The obscene noise that came out of Jesse when Hanzo squeezed his dick so unceremoniously was something caught between a low groan and a choked-off laugh, panted against Hanzo's throat and leaving Jesse feeling light-headed. 

 

"My  _ hands _ , huh?" They were talented hands; Jesse couldn't deny that. He was just as proficient at plucking the strings of a guitar as he was at stroking dick or bringing a car back to full functionality, and more than once he'd been complimented on his particular  _ dexterity _ . Still, he wasn't so convinced that was all that Hanzo had appreciated, the first time they'd met, though he didn't push the issue and merely tried to inch those talented fingers of his higher under Hanzo's vest, brushing the callused pads of his pointer and middle finger over one nipple. 

 

"I'd love'ta show ya  _ everything  _ these hands can do," he murmured and caught his nail against the pebbled skin, exhaling hard when it earned him another indulgent squeeze. It wouldn't be long now. He'd been starved for this for an eternity, it seemed, and Hanzo was being  _ so  _ generous with the way he touched him; Jesse could already feel the tightness in his gut, the way his dick twitched and drooled against Hanzo's palm. He came, finally, sinking his teeth into Hanzo's shoulder as he spilled over both of them, spunk smearing into the undoubtedly expensive fabric of Hanzo's vest and undershirt and coating Hanzo's fingers such that Jesse was tempted to keep rocking his hips until the sensation had him pulling back. 

 

McCree most certainly would have the opportunity to show him more. Hanzo had already decided as much, but he did not say so outright, not yet, not even when McCree groaned against his throat and came into Hanzo's fist. Much of his spend managed to spatter between them, spilling across Hanzo's fine vest and dress pants. It ought to have irritated him far more than it did; instead, Hanzo could muster only a look of mild displeasure when McCree at pulled away and Hanzo was able to assess the state of them both. McCree looked downright debauched, but that was nothing new. Hanzo's stained suit, on the other hand... 

 

"Such a mess," he intoned, affecting more annoyance than he felt. "Must you always make one, McCree?" 

 

"Hm." Jesse said nothing, neither in agreement nor in his own defense, too spent and feeling a little giddy after what they'd just done against the side of Hanzo's McLaren. He was pleasantly flushed - cheeks pink and sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead - and the slow smile that had stretched his handsome mouth wide while he basked in the aftermath of his orgasm twisted into a downright cheeky grin when Hanzo grumbled again, looking far too pleased for a man who was complaining about cum on his shirttails. 

 

Jesse kissed him, mostly just to shut him up, and pressed their bodies close like he might make a bigger mess of them both, eager fingers pinching at his chest and pressed against the side of his neck to keep him steady. 

 

"Y'like 'em," he rumbled when he eased away, catching one breath before kissing down Hanzo's jaw and the column of his throat. "Like a little filth, don't ya,  _ Mr. Shimada _ ?" 

 

For a moment, the narrowed eye stare Hanzo leveled at McCree looked genuinely affronted by his accusation. It was fleeting, however, replaced almost immediately with a long-suffering sigh and defeated expression as McCree kissed along his jaw and continued his over-eager fondling of Hanzo's chest. The attention was allowed for a few moments longer before Hanzo gently swatted away his hands, leaning back against the car McCree still crowded him into so as to tuck himself back into his pants. He straightened his attire, then, rebuttoning his vest and smoothing out some of the wrinkles before slipping a business card and gold-leafed pen from the breast pocket. 

 

Rather than explain, Hanzo scrawled something across the back of the card and then pressed it to McCree's chest for him to take. 

 

"I will be having dinner here tonight, at seven o'clock," he said at length, speaking rather primly for a man who had just been given head against the side of his car. "You are welcome to join me, if you so wish."

 

Jesse couldn't deny that he was disappointed when Hanzo nudged him away. He'd hoped - maybe foolishly - that he could pull the other man from whatever important business he was supposed to have been attending to. Maybe they'd take Jesse's junky truck back to his apartment (or, more likely, back to Hanzo's place, since Jesse didn't think he was so keen to show off how he lived), and he'd show the other man everything his clever hands and cleverer mouth were capable of. Instead, he was getting nudged back, a business card pressed against his chest until he took it and belatedly realized that he should probably tuck himself back into his own jeans. 

 

"Well hell, darlin'. Y'don't gotta tell me twice." He glanced down at the card, skimming over the address. He ignored, for the moment, the nagging part of his brain that reminded him he had no business being in a ritzy restaurant to begin with, much less that he had anything to wear to such a place, and flashed Hanzo a lazy grin, zipping himself back up before crowding the Shimada heir back against the side of his car. 

 

"I'll be seein' ya, Hanzo." With that and one last kiss, he left the man to hail a taxi and tucked the card away into his back pocket, waiting all of five minutes before fishing his phone out and sending Genji a frantic text message. 

 

_ What the hell does a man wear to a place like N/Naka? JM _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for McCree  
> Tea wrote for Genji and Hanzo


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short and sweet interlude wherein Genji dresses up his favorite new thing to play with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

Genji was nothing if not eager to help when Jesse came asking, for reasons that were not strictly selfless. He was generous with his time and money, anyway, and the excuse to pick Jesse up and take him on an impromptu shopping trip was one Genji was quick to jump on. 

 

He arrived at Jesse's apartment just a half-hour after his first text message, as promised, and barely had time to park his neon-green  _ Kawasaki Ninja  _ at the curb and shake out his helmet hair when he spotted Jesse hurrying out of the main lobby toward him. Genji was a little disappointed by his expediency -- he had been curious to see Jesse's apartment, and maybe get in a quick tour of his bedroom before they headed out. 

 

Ah, well.

 

"Jesse!" he greeted cheerily, grinning as the man approached. "You look well. Are you ready for your makeover?" 

 

After their brief exchange via text, Jesse had all but rushed home, setting aside his responsibilities for the day and locking up shop long before he normally did. Ordering the McLaren parts could wait, anyway, and there were a dozen other mechanics nearby that someone with an emergency could go to. 

 

It wasn't strictly professional, but neither was what he and Hanzo had done in the middle of the garage. 

 

He'd just gotten home and found the time to change into a less ratty pair of jeans and t-shirt when Genji texted him that he was there, and Jesse was just quick enough to intercept the other man before he could get too far inside. 

 

"Genji!" He looked handsome as ever, mouth in that ever-present smirk and a helmet tucked under one arm. 

 

"Y'sure there's enough room on that ride for me?"

 

"I am certain," Genji said without a moment's hesitation, fetching a second helmet off the back of the bike and holding it out to Jesse in wordless offering. It was a small bike, to be sure, but Genji had shared it on many occasions. Jesse posed no special problems, except that he was  _ big _ \-- all stage-honed muscles meant for display and broad shoulders that stood a head above Genji. He was reasonably sure that he could climb Jesse. In fact, Genji would have to file that one away for later. He always did admire a man strong enough to hold someone up while fucking them...

 

His mind was wandering, as was probably obvious in the way his eyes had trailed from Jesse's biceps to the tear in his jeans and the swell of his pecs where his T-shirt stretched across his chest.  _ Shit _ , was Jesse ever a sight to behold.

 

"You can drive, if you would like," he offered, eyes moving back to Jesse's mouth and, eventually, his eyes. "Driver has the bigger seat, and I am comfortable taking the back."

 

Jesse took the helmet without question and returned that same, sultry glance that Genji not-so-subtly shot him. Some part of him couldn't help but wonder what, exactly, Hanzo might think of this. Did it really matter, though? He'd seen the aftermath of Jesse and Genji's nights together and yet he'd still invited Jesse to dinner. And let Jesse suck his dick. Surely, if he had an issue, he would have brought it up before Jesse had gotten his mouth around his dick. 

 

He slipped the helmet on and caught the keys when they were tossed to him, taking the driver's seat and familiarizing himself with the beauty of a machine under him. 

 

"Lead the way, darlin'." 

 

It wasn't as though the McLaren was the only car Genji drove. He had many alternatives to choose from -- anything he desired, really -- but there has always been something particularly appealing about motorcycles. And, of course, riding one with Jesse would make the experience all the more exhilarating. 

 

He straddled the back of the bike once Jesse was settled, helmet secured and arms winding tightly around Jesse's firm middle. Genji's chin tucked atop one broad shoulder so that he could speak into Jesse's ear over the loud purr of the engine as the motor came to life, and the intimacy of it all, from how tightly his chest was pressed to Jesse's back and the way Genji's fingers idly smoothed along his chest, was surely not overlooked. 

 

"Do you remember where our penthouse is? Head that way, my tailor is just a block over," he instructed, speaking loudly enough to be heard through the noise. There wouldn't be much room for talking once they hit the road, but then, there was no real need to. Genji would have other ways of preoccupying himself soon enough. 

 

If Jesse didn't know better, he might've thought that Genji had brought the  _ Ninja  _ just to cozy up like this - his arms around Jesse's waist and his chin propped comfortably over one of Jesse's broad shoulders. 

 

Who was he kidding? This was probably, exactly, why Genji had brought the motorcycle with him, and Jesse sure as shit wasn't complaining about it. He nodded at the question and kicked the stand up, revving the engine a couple of times for good measure before kicking it into high gear. It was smooth sailing - the smoothest he'd ever ridden, at any rate - and the combined thrill of a powerful, beautiful machine between his thighs and a powerful, beautiful man plastered against his back had Jesse at a half-chub before they even hit the highway, adrenaline pumping through his veins and a grin plastered across his handsome mouth. 

 

He wove through traffic as they sped down the freeway, cutting it far too close between cars all-but sandwiched together on I-10 and took the road he'd remembered the last time he'd been at the Shimada's apartment, passing the ritzy-looking complex in the direction that Genji pointed him. 

 

As tempting as it might have been to give Jesse a reach-around while they cruised along on the motorcycle, Genji figured the risk of public indecency or vehicular accident were both too high to indulge the fantasy. That didn't preclude him from feeling up Jesse's chest whenever they were stopped, or giving his pectoral a cheeky squeeze and grinding against Jesse's ass under the guise of shifting in his seat. He was sure his companion noticed, but Jesse kept steadfastly focused on the road until they finally reached their destination, and Genji had the self-control to wait until they had parked before he did anything more.

 

Genji had his helmet off and slung over the back of the seat well before Jesse had killed the engine and flipped out the kick stand. While the parking lot was not particularly closed off from public sight, he didn't hesitate to slide a hand between Jesse's thighs and cup the half-hard bulge of his dick through his ratty jeans.

 

"Is this for me, or for my bike?" Genji asked with a teasing little squeeze, his mouth pulled into a wicked grin as he tested his chin atop Jesse's shoulder. 

 

Oh, this was  _ dangerous _ . Jesse knew that it was dangerous, that he was weak to men like Hanzo and Genji Shimada, that if he did this for much longer, he could land himself in a whole heap of trouble. But he'd always been a thrill-seeker, whether it was handsome men or sleek rides, and even as he knew that he  _ shouldn't _ , he tilted his chin and pressed a whiskery kiss to Genji's jaw. 

 

"Now, darlin', what kinda question is that?" His voice was low and breathy and his cheeks rouged pink from the pleasure of good company and, of course, the hand between his legs. He kissed Genji's forehead again, then the arch of one cheek, rubbing his whiskers into the soft skin as though he might leave his own mark for anyone to see. "The bike don't hurt one bit, but you're the real star of the show, don't ya know?" He'd never gotten hard from a fancy ride alone, though the rush of adrenaline and the blood pumping through his veins helped amp up every brush of Genji's hands over his body. Jesse felt  _ electric _ , like he might light up at any moment, and it had him feeling bold enough to twist in his seat, to catch Genji's mouth in a kiss just to sate some of the need that burned through him. 

 

Truth be told, Genji's aim had mostly been to tease. He wasn't sure where Jesse or his older brother stood, whether Jesse might be pining for something more exclusive or otherwise conventional. Genji wouldn't have minded too terribly, if that was the case. At least Hanzo would be in a better mood and pay less attention to whatever trouble Genji stirred up if he had someone handsome keeping him thoroughly distracted. 

 

But, no, Jesse still wanted this. It seemed he saw no danger in pushing his luck -- or maybe he  _ liked _ danger.

 

Genji was willing to bet it was the latter.

 

"Greedy, aren't you?" he said, grinning breathlessly when at last he broke away from the kiss, lips red and honey-brown eyes glittering impishly. He squeezed at Jesse's dick and thumbed at the button of his jeans as though considering whether or not to pop it loose. Pressed up against Jesse's wide back, Genji wished that they could rearrange themselves, that he could crawl onto Jesse's lap while they kissed. Instead, he stayed just as he was, huffing a quiet laugh against the side of Jesse's throat. "Can't be satisfied with only one Shimada, hm?"

 

The hand not currently between Jesse's legs moved up his front as Genji slipped it up the front of his shirt; anyone looking would surely recognize what they were doing as inappropriate, but Jesse didn't seem to mind and Genji couldn't say he did, either. 

 

"You want both dragons, is that it?" He feigned a pout. "Was I not good enough for you?" 

 

"Now how could you possibly suggest somethin' like  _ that _ ?" Jesse was greedy, he wouldn't deny this. He wouldn't deny a lot of accusations the handsome man behind him lobbied his way, but to suggest that he wanted both simply because Genji's attentions were unsatisfying was  _ beyond _ the realm of absurd. 

 

"Darlin', you are an absolute  _ gem _ ." And it wasn't just because Genji was so graciously palming at his dick that Jesse said such sweet things, either. He sighed his pleasure into the humid air and ran one callused palm along Genji's arm with every intention to keep him close until either someone caught them out or they escalated this past the point of no return. "And ya leave me plenty satisfied. But ya gotta know by now that I always want a  _ little  _ more." Or a lot, as was the case here. Jesse didn't think that Genji would mind this much at all - not with the way they were currently pressed against each other, at any rate - and Hanzo's willingness to take him to dinner knowing what he got up to with his brother seemed pretty damn promising, as well. 

 

Maybe they'd talk about it, at some point, or maybe it would remain some unspoken agreement or maybe Jesse would wake up one day with his throat slit. He didn't know and he didn't really care, not when in this very moment he held all of the cards in his hands. He just had to make sure to play them right. 

 

"Do ya really mind it?" 

 

He had the courtesy to  _ ask _ , at least, and Genji figured that warranted some kind of reward. What better way to show his approval than by giving Jesse a quick parking lot hand job?

 

"I don't mind," Genji said, pressing his lips to Jesse's jaw as he worked loose the button and zipper of his pants with one hand. It wasn't particularly easy to do from this position, but Genji was nothing if not dexterous. "So long as you show my brother a good time, that is."

 

God knew Hanzo needed it. 

 

"I will be out this evening. The penthouse will be empty," Genji said, off-handed, as though it was an entirely innocent remark to make. It belied the way he slipped his hand below the waistband of Jesse's tattered jeans and boxers, brushing his fingertips against the hard length of his cock. With a devilish grin, Genji caught the soft lobe of Jesse's ear between his teeth and pulled his cock through the open front of his pants. 

 

Jesse wasn't really in any position to reciprocate like this, but damn if he wasn't going to figure out some way to thank Genji for this later on. He breathed a sigh - half relief and half pleasure - and arched greedily into the hand wrapped snug around his cock, glancing down to watch the tip peek from between Genji's pre-slick fingers. 

 

"Aw,  _ hell _ , darlin'." He took the invitation for what it very clearly was. Hopefully, Hanzo would be amicable to going back to his place that night. Jesse couldn't imagine that he wouldn't be, not after what they'd done in the garage just a couple of hours ago. "I'll treat him as sweet as you treat me. Promise." His hips rolled against the friction and one hand darted back to grab at Genji's thigh, giving it a squeeze when Jesse felt himself grow close. 

 

" _ Shit _ . You're trouble, ain't ya?" he hissed, tipping his head back to rest on Genji's shoulder. "Love the way ya touch me, darlin'. Ya could tease me for hours and I'd still thank ya for it." 

 

Genji laughed, the sound high with delight and half-muffled against the side of Jesse's neck. The hand wrapped around his dick squeezed gently, only for a moment, then went right back to setting a slow, steady pace until Jesse was rock-hard and squirming in front of him.

 

"I do not think I would have the patience to tease you for  _ hours _ ,"  he replied, kissing below Jesse's jaw in response to every grunt and quiet gasp. The hand not currently wrapped around his dick was still up the front of his shirt, idly toying with one nipple until it pebbled beneath Genji's fingertips. "That is more Hanzo's purview. He can be a patient man, you see. I think it gives him a sense of control."

 

As if it was a perfectly ordinary thing to discuss one's brother while giving one's mechanic a handjob in a strip mall parking lot, Genji continued speaking against the shell of Jesse's ear, his voice a rumbling purr.

 

"But I think he likes  _ losing _ control, too," he said, the pace of his hand quickening in time to Jesse's breathing. "I am sure that filthy mouth of yours drives him wild. Is that how you finally seduced my brother, Jesse? Did you say all kinds of  _ uncouth _ things to him? I bet he loved that."

 

" _ Hah _ -" Jesse was quickly losing the train of the conversation, every thought instead turning inwards and towards his inevitable orgasm. How could he possibly last longer than a few minutes with Genji's deliberate, clever fingers and sinful words and obscenely public display all working in tandem to chase Jesse to the edge? 

 

He groaned, tucking his forehead against the side of Genji's neck while his fingers flexed in those firm thighs as the only indication of his orgasm, which ripped through him and left Genji's fingers coated in a generous amount of spend. 

 

Someone had surely seen them. They weren't exactly subtle to begin with and when Jesse had moaned he hadn't had the decency to try and muffle the noise, letting it echo out into the air between them. 

 

Still, he was shameless as he ground against Genjist hand, chasing the last of his orgasm before it became too overwhelming and he had to shove those clever fingers off. 

 

" _ Ah _ \- my mouth was a little too  _ occupied _ ," was what he finally managed, once he found some measure of composure and managed to push Genji away enough to twist and kiss him again. 

 

Jesse always  _ did _ know exactly the right words to say, if the way Genji's dick twitched in his pants was any indication -- he quite liked the mental image of Jesse, grease-stained and on his knees in the middle of the garage, servicing Hanzo in ways he wasn't strictly being paid for...

 

If not for the fact that they had a limited amount of time to get Jesse's suit fitted for tonight, Genji might have demanded some reciprocation before they headed inside. Instead, he settled for kissing Jesse deeply atop the still-warm motorcycle, giving his cock a few final jerks before Jesse's over-sensitized squirming had Genji pulling away. He leaned back from the kiss, too, lifting his cum-splattered hand up as though only now realizing the state of it.

 

"My, my, what a mess," he said, in a tone that might have sounded admonishing if not for the sly smile stretching across his lips. Without another word, Genji pressed one soaked knuckle to his lips and lapped it clean, looking as pleased as the metaphorical cat with the cream.

 

"Remind me to thank ya for this later," Jesse drawled, dick giving an interested twitch when he caught sight of Genji licking his fingers clean. He probably wouldn't  _ need _ reminding, but it was the best way he could think to let Genji know that such indulgence would not go unrewarded. 

 

A minute crawled by, and then another before he finally thought to tuck himself back in his jeans, finally standing from the bike on shaking legs. He stole another kiss from Genji and pressed the keys against his chest until he took them, giving himself an extra moment to compose himself and run his fingers through his hair. 

 

No reason to walk into Genji's tailor completely reeking  _ and _ looking like sex. 

 

Once he was relatively satisfied with his appearance, Jesse linked his fingers through Genji's in a moment of post-coital giddiness, following dutifully after him as they made their way towards the collection of tasteful, pricy-looking boutiques. 

 

There was nothing conspicuous or otherwise suspect about the storefront of the upscale-looking men's formal wear shop. The mannequins in the windows showcased bespoke three-piece suits with colourful pocket squares and precious metal cuff-links, all artfully displayed and unquestionably expensive. For anyone paying attention, however, there was something rather  _ off _ about the interior -- namely, that there was a finely dressed man standing just inside the entryway with an identification tag claiming 'security' and a gun not-so-subtly strapped beneath his suit jacket. He was one of two such men who stood inside the shop, the other hovering closer to the back of the expansive boutique where he seemed to be watching the changing rooms. Upon close enough inspection, one might spot the hint of a colourful tattoo hidden just beneath the sleeve of a dress shirt or the collar of a jacket. 

 

If it was strange for there to be two armed security guards in a suit shop, Genji spoke nothing of it as he and Jesse strolled inside still hand-in-hand. There appeared to be only one other patron currently inspecting a wall of silk ties, and so the shop clerk (a squat, bespectacled old woman who dressed impossibly chic given her age) peered up at them the moment they stepped inside. Her dark eyes lit up with recognition as she spotted Genji, then narrowed into something resembling a discerning and vaguely disdainful stare at the greasy-fingered man beside him.

 

"Genji, is this another one of your friends you need me to dress for you?" she said in lieu of a proper greeting, approaching them both with her hands on her hips and her head cocked slightly to one side. She looked Jesse up and down, as if already considering what to pull from the racks. "You will want a fitting, too, I take it?"

 

Obviously accustomed to the store clerk's straightforward mannerisms, Genji flashed her a friendly smile and gave Jesse a demonstrative pat on the shoulder.

 

"Jesse, this is Yan. My brother and I usually come to her for our suits," he said, watching as the woman pulled a length of soft measuring tape from the pocket of her fitted suit jacket. "She has exceptionally good taste. And she works  _ so  _ quickly."

 

Yan peered at him suspiciously.

 

"Quickly enough to pick out something for you to wear and have any necessary alterations done within the next two hours, I'm sure," Genji continued, his grin turning to a simper. Yan's only response was a displeased cluck of her tongue, and then a moment later she was marching off toward the racks, gesturing sharply for the pair to follow. There was a very good reason why Genji had taken Jesse to this specific tailor -- and it wasn't  _ just  _ because the Shimadas technically owned it (and every other business within this strip). Yan truly was talented at her job, and always dependable for last-minute rush jobs.

 

And, well, it certainly helped that Genji and Hanzo paid her rent, supplies, and a generous bit of cash on the side to ensure her cooperation and silence.

 

"Pleasure t'be meetin' ya," Jesse drawled with one of his characteristically-dashing smiles, though Yan seemed neither charmed nor particularly affected by it as she appraised him head to toe. Rather than say anything to him further, she turned her heel sharply and led them both back to a fitting room, where Genji quickly took one of the waiting chairs and Jesse was ushered onto a short podium near the mirrored wall. There, too, was a third armed guard, standing by the entrance as stoically as though he himself were part of the decor. 

 

Jesse wasn't about to bring it up. He'd caught enough glimpses of Genji's knives and Hanzo's guns to realize he was all-but throwing himself into the lions' den, but his hunger for the thrill and his general disregard for his own safety had smothered whatever warning bells might of sounded in his head. He was too deep to back out now, and anyway: a little danger had never scared him before. 

 

"Y'bring a lot of your friends by for fittings?" he asked Genji while Yan set to taking his measurements, working quickly with the fabric tape and a notepad. He caught Genji's eye in the reflection of a mirror with a wink. It wasn't like he was terribly put-out by the notion that Genji had brought and payed for previous paramours to get finely-fitted suits. After all, they met the morning after one of Genji's trysts on more than one occasion, while he was still covered in a stranger's hickeys and nursing a vile combination of hangovers. Jesse would suck his dick and add to the bruises and think nothing of it; he knew what all Genji got up to. 

 

"On occasion," Genji said with a shrug and not-so-innocent grin as Jesse caught his eye. They made no real secret of the more casual nature of their relationship, and Jesse didn't seem the least bit bothered by it. And really, considering Genji had brought him here for a suit fitting so that Jesse could go out and seduce his older brother, it would be rather hypocritical of him to take issue with their lack of monogamy.

 

Genji lounged in the fitting area on one of the plush chairs, legs spread wide and arms draped over the backrest as Yan went about taking Jesse's measurements. She was quick about it, as always, raising Jesse's arms and taking his inseam without a word as he and Genji chatted. It was not long before she hurried off only to return with a two-piece suit from one of the store racks. Jesse was ushered into a dressing room a moment later, the curtain drawn hurriedly behind him by Yan, who stayed outside to give him a moment to change. Genji privately mourned that they didn't have more time -- he wouldn't have minded slipping into that dressing room along with Jesse and helping him get into his new clothes (after assisting him in taking off the old ones, of course).

 

But Jesse managed just fine undressing and redressing himself, and after he'd tried a couple of different options Yan had brought to him (and spun around a few times to give Genji a 'full 360 degree view', for entirely innocuous reasons), they found  _ the one _ .

 

Jesse stepped out from behind the heavy velvet curtain, fastening the second button of his suit jacket. While not tailored to his body, the two-piece suit fit him exceptionally well, and the choice of cut and colour was--

 

" _ Perfect _ ," Genji declared, before either Yan or Jesse could give their verdict. 

 

In the end, it was worth it just to see his own reflection in the mirror. 

 

He'd popped the top two buttons as soon as Yan looked away, and then it truly was  _ perfect _ . The shirt Yan had put him in was a bright, crimson red, some sort of silk that whispered over his skin and caressed him as tenderly as any lover might. He had a vest, and it wasn't so much patterned as it was embossed - faint filigree pressed into the dark, velvety fabric that shimmered just slightly under the light. Frankly, Jesse hadn't thought he needed anything else after that, but Yan held a crisp satin-lined jacket out to him and he was quick to shrug it on, feeling it a little too tight around his shoulders despite the generous give around the waist. The pants were perfectly-pressed and came with gold accents: a gold buckle, gold zip, gold button, and already hugged his ass like a dream, even without the promised alterations. 

 

Still, he stood up there and didn't fuss while Yan made marks with tailor's chalk and pinned and muttered in Japanese under her breath, finally letting him loose to change back into his ratty jeans and shirt once Genji had appraised him one last time. 

 

"Be back in two hours," she told them when they were in the main room, dismissing them with a curt nod so that she could go back to work. 

 

It was a shame they hadn't had more time, preferably  _ alone _ . Jesse could've thought a dozen things to get up to in the relative privacy of a changing room, but with the guards there and Yan hovering as though she knew this was a possibility (and hell, Jesse wouldn't of been surprised to find out some of Genji's previous  _ friends  _ had found themselves with their pants around their ankles behind that heavy curtain) he hadn't exactly found a good opportunity. 

 

Didn't mean he couldn't slip his hand into Genji's back pocket once they were outside, squinting into the bright LA afternoon with a grin showing off his teeth. 

 

"Where to now, sugarplum? Reckon we got a couple hours t'kill before the suit's ready." 

 

It wasn't as though there was more they really  _ had _ to do if the goal was to have Jesse handsome enough to drive Hanzo wild; the bespoke suit was, frankly, overkill, and to do anything beyond that was likewise unnecessary.

 

But it wasn't just about making certain his brother brought their handsome mechanic home for the evening. Genji  _ liked _ pampering Jesse, and was impossibly curious to see just how much a bit of extra grooming would embellish his already dashing good looks.

 

They walked down the plaza strip, Jesse's hand still slipped in Genji's back pocket, and Genji's arm loosely hooked around Jesse's waist, the pair of them impervious to the curious glances of any passer-bys.

 

"Now, we get you a haircut," Genji said with a smile bright enough to nearly outshine Jesse's own. He reached up to ruffle Jesse's hair -- perpetually a bit windswept and still suffering a little from helmet-head -- then walked them to the door of a barber's that just so happened to be a few shops down from the tailor. "You could use a bit of a trim for that beard, too."

 

"Y'tryina spoil me?" Jesse teased, though he was far from averse to the idea. He did need a haircut, and it had been a minute since he'd trimmed up his beard, and though he certainly could've done either on his own, there was something perfectly indulgent about letting Genji cover it. 

 

They stepped into a chic-looking barbershop further down the strip, and if Jesse took notice of the armed guard there as well, he said nothing. The reception they received was similar to Yan's. The lead stylist there recognized Genji immediately, turning a critical eye on Jesse when he was introduced, and not moments after Jesse was ushered into a chair. If he didn't know better, he might've thought that the Shimada brothers owned everything on that strip, based purely on his interactions at the last two boutiques. 

 

Whatever the case, he left the barbershop looking primped and handsome, hair too short now to fit comfortably into a ponytail but rather curled to fall in waves about his head like a twisted crown. His beard had been steamed, clipped, and styled, and while he'd sat reclined with his head dipped into a sink, someone had even plucked his brows. 

 

Jesse'd never felt so pampered.

 

Admittedly, Genji had a bit of a  _ thing _ for spoiling his friends and lovers. He supposed it was a consequence of having a great deal of wealth and material objects and very little else to throw his money at. More besides, he got a thrill from pampering friends and lovers, and the ecstatic reactions he could elicit with a bit of over-the-top generosity never ceased to amuse him. Besides, it wasn't like he needed to do any of it to get McCree to like him. He had already won the other man's interest and desire. This was just a bit of good, quality  _ fun _ .

 

"You look good," Genji said as they left the salon and made their way back toward the tailor's. Jesse's suit likely wasn't finished just yet, but Yan would want him around for any final alterations. "Very handsome -- not that you weren't already. How do you feel?"

 

Judging by his smile, and the noticeable pep in his step, Jesse certainly appeared to be enjoying his day of pampering. Genji would have to find more reasons to take him out like this, perhaps make something of a ritual of it…

"Feelin' pretty damn good, sweetheart." He felt  _ expensive _ , like a haircut and a manicure was enough to get him ready for a dinner at a restaurant where a fella needed international fame and deep pockets to get a reservation. 

 

Still, it was a good feeling to look like he knew what he was doing, and the way that Genji peered at him from under those long, long lashes like he wanted to eat him up for breakfast didn't hurt none, either. 

 

Jesse preened under the attention, anyway, and stole a kiss on their way into Yan's, his excitement very nearly palpable in the way he squeezed Genji's hip and lavished him in further affection all the way down the strip and into the boutique. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for McCree  
> Tea wrote for Genji and Hanzo

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone curious: 
> 
> Fresh wrote for McCree  
> Tea wrote for Genji and Hanzo


End file.
